The Indian woman behind the counter
is reading The Upanishads when I enter.
The radio is playing a French chanson.
The photograph on the wall to my left
features John F. Kennedy
on the steps of the White House,
waving to reporters.
As I pay what I owe
the cashier’s husband emerges
from the back,
his blue dastar matching
the color of the sky beyond the windows.
If someone were to tell me
that out of these fuel pumps
butterflies will emerge,
I would certainly believe them.
Kareem Tayyar is a poet and novelist whose books include Follow the Sun: Poems, Stories, and Reflections (Aortic Books), Postmark Atlantis (Level 4 Press), Scenes From a Good Life (Tebot Bach), and The Prince of Orange County (Pelekenesis). He lives in Southern California.
Copyright 2021 Kareem Tayyar
Just delightful! Thank you for lifting my spirit!
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I love the butterflies from gas pumps. Thank you.
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Rich sensory detail. I want to place these gas station owners in a story, but, of course, that is not my story to tell.
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Yes, there’s just a hint of narrative here, but the real story is the way the experience changes the speaker.
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