PATRICIA WELLINGHAM-JONES

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I.D.

The checker sifts
through "reward" cards-
all the customer's relatives, friends-
looks for the best deal
on points for pizza.
Glares at the young man
past her glassy smile,
thinks but does not say,
This is not how it's done.
Search over, coming up empty,
the man pulls out a check
to cover his few groceries.
When the checker asks for I.D.
he whips up his T-shirt.
Points a grimy finger
at a tattoo of his name
loosely engraved in the skin
over his right nipple.
The checker tries not to gag,
prefers not to call the manager,
takes his check for $5.86,
doesn't care if it's good.