So-So Grocery

By Michael Spence 
 *—New Orleans, 1963* 
 The address—5050 Downman Road— 
I guess inspired Mom to call it that. 
The pocked cinderblock felt gritty when I dragged 
My fingers along a wall, as if the store 
Were painted with a paste of crumbled seashells. 
Whiter than its milk that would go bad 
Before we finished it, the building gleamed 
Bright as a bunker from an arctic war. 
But inside wasn’t cool—just not as hot 
As the steam of this July. Maybe the milk 
Soured my mother on the place. She claimed 
The meat it sold developed unusual hues 
And started to smell soon as she’d unwrap it. 
So she drove to the Piggly-Wiggly, its cold breeze 
Flowing past the bins that glittered like ice. 
 The So-So owner loved the holidays— 
All the holidays. Equality 
Was rare as snow that summer in the South: 
The people living there knew people came 
In different kinds. But in the display window, 
The Uncle Sam who held a firecracker 
Big as an extinguisher stood guard 
With Santa smiling beside an aluminum tree 
Flocked into permanent winter. A turkey stuck 
Mid-strut between them like a mutual pet 
Seemed to peck a patch of jack-o’-lanterns. 
In front of all, as if in command, the crèche. 
 
 
 Arkansas Review 55.2 (August 2024) 
 100 
 
 
 
 My mother frowned: He’s just too lazy to change 
With the seasons. So confused and weird. Nodding, 
I fought to keep from grinning. I thought the owner 
Was right—holidays seemed parceled out 
As if scarce as pardons from the governor 
On TV crime shows. I guessed the owner felt 
Excited like I did on Christmas morning, 
And he could feel that electric every day— 
His store would never cease to celebrate. 
 I first saw Michelle Fernandez in its aisles, 
Her hair and face the light brown of pralines. 
I bought a couple of Yoo-hoo’s for me and her— 
They were cold; so chilly they made us shiver. 
The frosty drinks cost most of my allowance, 
But I liked imagining the chocolate turned 
Michelle browner. Those summer afternoons 
We’d meet at the store and take our bottles out 
To the bench in front. I sipped mine slowly 
To make it last. The day I said, I want you 
To be my girlfriend, she only smiled and talked 
About how hot it was. 
 So-So Grocery 
Never changed when autumn came and Michelle 
Went out with Ronnie Ducrose. I’d still go in 
To check the aisles; any brown-haired girl 
Turned blond or brunette. I quit looking 
At the window and its frozen decorations. 
The cream soda I bought looked plain as water— 
The way a holiday on the calendar 
Looks like any other day. I chugged 
The hissing fizz, letting it fill up my mouth, 
And pressed my lips tight as it scoured my tongue. 
 
 
 Arkansas Review 55.2 (August 2024) 
 101