a dollar-fifty

every time i walk into a store, i feel their eyes on me
following me, watching me.
one of them gets up from their stool behind the counter
and strides quickly over to me
"hello, how can i help you?" they ask politely
i JUST walked in, i think im fine for now, thanks
i think of saying, but instead, i say "im just looking"
they give me a look, that i cannot describe,
but yet, i can identify. they turn on their heel and go back
to their perch, watching, waiting.

an old woman enters the store, yet she gets
no more than a hello, from behind the counter.
nothing else, no secret look, no immediate "help"
from the clerk. they still watch me, oblivious to the old woman
shovelling various items into her multicoloured tote bag.
no, no. they keep their eyes on me, and as i walk behind
an aisle, they stretch to keep an eye on me.
after five minutes of walking around, i grab a chocolate bar
and bring it up to the cashier.
"a dollar-fifty, please" she says quite smugly,
satisfied that she made me pay, instead of an alternative.
i fish for some change in my denim jeans,
put it down on the counter, and push it towards her.

i walk out the door, but i hear nobody say "thank you"
or "please come again" because i know
they don't really want me to. im a teenager.
my friends are waiting for me around the corner,
and we all walk to the park, satisfied.
we sit on a hill, and i dump out my bag
we stare for a moment, at the mountain of chocolate bars,
candy, chips, pop. everything a teenager could eat.
and it only cost a dollar-fifty.