Rita

                   Rita

The other day I gathered
      a truckload of empty bottles
      —my wife's idea to recycle
Headed down to the supermarket
      Christopher is now in charge
      so courteous and kind this boy
      I almost forget the time
      I was accosted by a 400 lb. crazy
            wanted to steal my trashcan
            duel under the hot sun
       I said,
            "You throw the first punch
              you're going to spend the rest
              of your life regretting it"

I take my place at the end of the long line
       after a while an older woman,
       Rita, comes behind me
I suggest she tuck in
       her two light gold chains  
       religious medallions
"...there are some lowlifes around here"
"Oh, thanks for telling me"
She has an accent that I can't place
"I've been up and I've been down she says
I know I can survive
I was in a concentration camp"
"Are you Jewish?" No, Serbian,
          
"My father was killed by the Nazis 1944,
       my mother raped
       I was 3 my brother 5
       she put us in a little rowboat
       rowed 150 miles to Bari" (Italy)
They put us in a refuge camp
       A poor farmer with 13 cows
       vouched for us so we came to America
I'm a widow now
My husband died 3 years back, cancer
Had a bad auto accident before he died
We were sued for 5 million, 200 lawyer firm
       took our house, car, everything
I 'm living with my children now
Preparing to start taking the bus
When you get too old
       driving is not always good"
As she told her story
       I moved her bottles forward
       each time the line advanced
Finally we arrived at Christopher
I passed  cans, glass, plastic
       got $28.76
       money for cat food
I thanked Rita, "so nice meeting you"
Without thinking I embraced her and kissed her cheek.
"Every life has its story," she says
What unquenchable spirit on such a hot day

"Maybe you should stop going down there.
       It's dangerous," says my wife
"No, it's ok," I answer,
       "You meet some nice people"