shopping
The blowers are attacking. Their back-pack machines screaming to keep humans from ever having to walk on leaves. They push the debris to the edge of the paths we tread, to be forgotten in the corners of our eyes.
I can’t stand their howling. I can’t stand my paths being laid bare as if nothing has ever happened here.
I am wandering through the grocery store. It is early, shelves freshly stocked, all full, labels out, like a Warhol painting. There is something nice about it; comforting. For a second I feel like everything will be alright.
There are always flocks of young attractive girls here. All uncomfortably perfect as if all the fat girls are in back riding bikes to power the lights. One of them up ahead has taken a can and placed it in her cart. The empty spot sticks out like a face missing a tooth.
Everything is not alright. I will wander aimlessly for awhile, past the full aisles and the people all around. But all I can think about is that one little empty hole. Somehow I know it was the only thing I really wanted.
I can’t stand their howling. I can’t stand my paths being laid bare as if nothing has ever happened here.
I am wandering through the grocery store. It is early, shelves freshly stocked, all full, labels out, like a Warhol painting. There is something nice about it; comforting. For a second I feel like everything will be alright.
There are always flocks of young attractive girls here. All uncomfortably perfect as if all the fat girls are in back riding bikes to power the lights. One of them up ahead has taken a can and placed it in her cart. The empty spot sticks out like a face missing a tooth.
Everything is not alright. I will wander aimlessly for awhile, past the full aisles and the people all around. But all I can think about is that one little empty hole. Somehow I know it was the only thing I really wanted.