A Small Moment

I walk into the bakery next door To my apartment. They are about To pull some sort of toast with cheese From the oven.   When I ask: What’s that smell? I am being A poet, I am asking What everyone else in the shop Wanted to ask, but somehow couldn’t; I am speaking on behalf of two other Customers who wanted to buy the Name of it.   I ask the woman Behind the counter for a percentage Of her sale. Am I flirting? Am I happy because the days Are longer?   Here’s what She does: She takes her time Choosing the slices.   “I am picking Out the good ones,” she tells me.   It’s April 14th. Spring, with five to ten Degrees to go.   Some days, I feel my duty; Some days, I love my work.