Excerpt

Summer Days at the Five and Dime

At the end of Kent Street
on the other side of Grand Avenue
Ohland’s Ben Franklin, Five and Dime, beckons.

You ride your blue bike,
a quarter shoved in your pocket,
with an itch to spend it.

Should you buy Lik-M-Aid,
Pixy Stix, Jawbreakers,
or Bazooka – for the comics?

Instead, you splurge on red wax lips
and a black wax mustache,
ten cents each.

The leftover nickel buys
a miniature six-pack
of wax bottles filled with nectar.

You bite off the caps,
suck out the sweet juice,
then chew the wax into a squishy ball.

Bite the soft blob,
peel the wax from your teeth,
inspect your tooth prints.

Happiness is
the Five and Dime,
a quarter in your pocket.

Annette Langlois Grunseth (c) 2026