On receiving the vaccine in a Walmart

On receiving the Vaccine in a Walmart


I smile with my eyes
but I know I only look wary–
that the thin squint above my mask
must read more like mistrust. 

Is the Virus smaller than
the smell of popcorn?
Smaller than the scent of 
paperbacks and floor wax
that in different times would remind me of
record stores when dad was alive
or silent libraries of bent spines
where I was not heard– 
when I was not seen–

I receive the needle.

Turnstiles rattle and sensors beep 
but no one is there to check the receipts.
Carts crash. Incessant plastic bags hiss
like a sea in a shell to the ear.

I fold my hands and wait
to slump from a stroke
as the girl in the blue smock 
rushes away with the keys
to the locked-up Enfamil.

–Teresa Kiplinger