Immigrants

“A week ago,” she said,“From Kosovo,” she said.“Really!” I said.“Yes.”And there was a bucket full of roses beside her,Ten dollars a rose, Kind of steep, I thought,And a sign in her hand that said, Please help, large family.“How many are in your family?” I asked.“My two sisters and meAnd my father and mother.”My family is bigger, I thought.But I didn’t hold that against her.“And where are you staying?” I asked.“A hotel,” she said.  “A hundred dollars a night.”And her eyes went wide,And so did mine.“That’s a lot,” I said.“Yes.”“But you’ll be ok, I think,” I said.And she nodded her head.They know how to beg, I thought.And they know how to sell. They’ll be ok.And I handed her five dollars.