March 1st, Whole Foods Poem by Joon Lee

The man behind the sushi counter
is wearing a black chef's hat
and a matching coat
with hiragana and lotus flowers embroidered on the chest
and the signs to his left promise an "authentic Japanese dining experience"
and I think the Eagles' "Hotel California" is playing on the speakers
and some old lady tries to be nice by saying arigato to the man
after picking out some maki rolls
and suddenly two more shoppers,
a clean-cut couple
with stroller in tow
are arigato-ing
and he keeps his head down
and I see he has a folded copy of the local Korean newspaper
sticking out cautiously from beneath his chopping board
(It is independence day
back in Seoul)
and when I pick out my roll
I consider briefly saying something in Korean
for a shared moment of companionship
but I decide not to
but I at least give him the courtesy
of not arigato-ing
but just saying "thank you"
and he keeps his head down
and later, as I am picking at that
green strip of artificial grass they put in take-out sushi for some reason
I realize
that I want to believe
that his blank expression
was a tacit signal
that he understood.