Calculator at the Checkout

My name is Clara, Register Four,
Working underneath the neon.
Arthur steps up with his basket,
With his faded raincoat on.
He clicks a pocket calculator,
Like every penny has a price.

Calculator at the checkout,
Counting down the final cost.
Tapping digits in the neon,
Nothing stolen, nothing lost.

She thinks I live on tight allowances,
Watching every can of beans.
She doesn't know the state detective,
Or what my calculator means.
Last Tuesday morning by the harbor,
Two million vanished in marked tens.

Calculator at the checkout,
Counting down the final cost.
Tapping digits in the neon,
Nothing stolen, nothing lost.

I saw his badge inside his coat
When he bought his lemon gum.
I know the manager upstairs
Has dirty bills he needs to run.
Before Arthur hit the counter,
I brought the boss's lockbox down.

I buy the gum and take my change,
She lays three tens into my palm.
I tap the numbers on the keypad,
Her steady eyes are cool and calm.
The sequence matches digit one,
The harbor money just showed up.

Calculator at the checkout,
Counting down the final cost
Tapping digits in the neon,
Nothing stolen, nothing lost

I turn the screen so she can see.
She nods toward the office door.
The scanner beeps the closing sale.
Blue sirens flood the grocery floor.