The Saturday evening sky above the K-Mart
    is blue still, rich and deep: the color that tears
        would be if they were blue; tears, after
they’d fallen, and no eyes could know
    whether they’d come from joy or misery.

Inside the store, just about everyone
    is picking out pens, binders, rulers, sacks:
        because the coming Monday is Labor Day,
and this is what people do if they live near-
    and almost everybody does-

a K-Mart, or any other place that stays
    open, and sells late …