What I Heard at the Discount Department Store
Don't touch that. And stop your whining too.
Stop it. I mean it. You know I do.
If you don't stop, I'll give you fucking something
to cry about right here
and don't you think I won't either.
So she did. She slapped him across the face.
And you could hear the snap of flesh against the flesh
half-way across the store. Then he wasn't whining anymore.
Instead, he wept. His body heaved and shivered and he wept.
He was seven or eight. She was maybe thirty.
Above her left breast, the pin said: Nurse's Aide.
Now they walk hand in hand down the aisle
between the tables piled with tennis shoes
and underpants and plastic bags of socks.
I told you I would. You knew I would.
You can't get away with shit like that with me,
you know you can't.
You're not in school anymore.
You're with your mother now.
You can get away with fucking murder there,
but you can't get away with shit like that with me.
Stop that crying now I say
or I'll give you another little something
like I did before.
Stop that now. You'd better stop.
That's better.
That's a whole lot better.
You know you can't do that with me.
You're with your mother now.
Sam Hines and the Christmas Mittens
About a week or so before Christmas last year
I saw Sam Hines down to Jerry's Garage one morning
and while we were visiting he said: Look at these!
And he held his hands out palms up to show me
a new pair of deerskin choppers with hand knit liners
made of brown wool.
The kids give 'em to me for Christmas.
Little Sam bought the choppers with the money he
made sugarin' last spring and Jenny knit the liners.
I got 'em now because they couldn't wait. Ain't those
the nicest pair you ever seen?
A few days after that Sam and all the other parents
in town came down to the school for the Christmas
open-house and exercises. When Sam went to leave,
his mittens were gone.
Then a couple weeks later Sam was driving through
the village and saw the littlest Hopper boy walking
down the road with a pair of mittens on so big
one of them could have been his hat.
Sam pulled over, rolled his window down and said:
Nice lookin' mittens.
You mean these? Yeah, nice ones, ain't they?
Where'd ja get 'em?
My mother give 'em to me fer Christmas!
She even knit the liners, see?
Yes, sir, those are fine mittens.
Nicest pair I ever seen.
And he rolled up his window and drove away.
David Budbill
from JUDEVINE, Chelsea Green Publishing Company, 1999