Mike (a haibun)

Mike greeted customers with his Dean Martin hair, a few wispy strands dangling over one eye, and a sweetly ingratiating smile. Though a handsome man he was unrecognizable without the bloodied apron he wore; he always looked a little tired. I often accompanied my mother there for our grocery shopping

Always visible inside ,

 prize apple in his hand--

freshly swept streets

The angled storefront window made the Venetian Market easy to spot from a distance. Produce was neatly arrayed on crate containers outside: its fresh scent blended nicely with street and pedestrian traffic. Inside were the usual butcher paper, delicatessen display and stocked shelves, and crumpled receipts on the counter. The bowling trophies Mike had displayed were always a conversation piece and I'm sure did momentarily take his mind off a lost wife, son and cancer diagnosis

Castelfranco was the name of the town in Italy where the owner of the Venetian Market had been born.

His son's wispy hair and

pale stare,

final cruise,