Bud

Bud
His grocery store was by the bay,
Bud the owner, watched the sunset every day.
Out the screen door and over the bay
Looking west in North Cape May.

I’d search for bottles in the summer sun,
Because I could get two cents for each one.
I’d put them in my bike’s basket and ride them to Bud’s,
To trade them for wax bottles, dots, wax lips, or Milk Duds.

Bottles rattled; I rode thinking Milk Duds,
Bottles rolled in my basket; the bay rolled in with suds.
I parked my bike in the soft, summer sand,
Gathered up bottles in my arms and my hand.

I sifted across the pebbles, a bottle under my chin,
He saw me coming; he had a big grin.
Bud moved on a wooden leg; he got hurt in the War.
Most he knew people were coming by the slamming screen door.

I had to move fast. It was almost time for dinner!
Today I think Milk Duds or red licorice are a winner!
I placed my bottles on the counter for Bud to see.
He moved some glass jars closer to me.

It’s time to barter. This trade won’t be vicious.
I eye some new jawbreakers. They look delicious!
“What you got there, young lady?” he asked rather gruffly,
“Looks like two Cokes, two 7Up, two orange, a root beer, and a Pepsi.”

“Do you want a dime and some cents, or some candy?”
He inquired as he brushed the counter that got sandy.
He watched as my eyes glanced at the jars.
Then to the glass case that housed the candy bars.

“Jawbreakers, please!” pointing my finger north
Bud looked up, pursed his lips, and lingered forth.
“You mean this jar?” He was a treasure.
Elongating time, the transaction gave him pleasure.

We parted that day until the next time,
When I’d bring bottles come rain or sunshine,
From the beach by the bay, June through September.
At least, that is how I remember

That gentle man and his small grocery store
With the glass jars and the slamming screen door,
Where I’d ride my bike day after day,
In the sweet summertime of North Cape May.