She said: diecisiete.
He looked at the strange
fruit on the counter
between.
He fumbled for change.
He repeated: diecisiete?
She nodded.
She took diecisiete
out of his hand
coin by coin.
Very gently he touched
the fruit.
He said: KS—tuna?
She said: guanabana.
He said: guanabana?
She nodded.
For the first time
in two years she
smiled warmly.
Seventeen is dear
for a can of 7Up
but it was very cold.
He said: gracias.
He walked away
sipping.
He could tell
she was thinking
Mexico.
Curious and not as simple
as he appears.
E. A. Costa 28 April, 2015 San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua
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