I can tell immediately that
the woman walking toward me
in the blue cap has cancer.
It is the kind of cap
cancer patients always wear,
Brimless, pulled close.
Hairless around the edges.
I turn to watch her walk away.
and feel relieved she is still full-sized.
But it does not stop the audible sadness
that bubbles up out of me.
She stops at the travel section.
I find myself wondering
if it will be her last trip.

She may be fine, of course.
Completely on the mend.
I want to think that.
By Easter she’ll have a new straw hat,
one she can take off –
that matches her floral dress.
She’ll have a new wardrobe,
for the life she intends to live now.
Something tres cafe,
classical guitar playing.
Something white-washed,
a bit Grecian,
which if it were painted
would require the color