Two women in brightly colored shirts ahead of me,
one man accompanying them with humor,
two pushing groceries to the checker,
one bagging,
all smiling,
but it is clear they are short of cash.
He insists on paying.
One woman fumbles to intercept,
both debit cards flying
onto the floor.
Exasperation.
A small-framed Hawaiian man behind me,
eyes cast down,
one can in hand,
and I apologize for taking so long
as I count out ones,
bulking up my wallet
for too long.
He says,
uncharacteristically for a local,
Pretty soon Trump is going to take this, too.
He asks the cashier
if they have a little splurge for himself.
They are out, she says.
He thanks her anyway.
Only in Hawaii, I think.
Later, after stowing my few things
in the car, I head down and around
the parking lot
and see him at his car,
hatch open,
a few small coolers.
I find myself horrified
as the can of pet food
is opened,
and he eats.