often times I can't separate the
people from the bright lights
and serpents.
in the supermarket
I see them standing and waiting
or pushing their carts.
I see rumps and ears and eyes
and skin and mouths, and
I feel curiously detached.
I suppose I fear them or
I fear their difference and
I step aside as they
pick up rolls of toilet paper,
apricots, heads of lettuce.

today I saw a man
less than 3 feet tall.
he was shorter than his
shopping basket as he
stood angrily in the aisle
looping steaks into his shopping
cart.
for a moment I felt like
touching him and saying,
"so you're different too?"
but I moved on as the
lights glared and
serpents abounded.

my total at the register
was $46.42
I paid the cashier whose
teeth kept watching me.
without warning
a bolt of lightening
flashed past my left ear
and flickered out in the fresh
egg section. then
I picked up my bag and
walked out to the parking
lot.

bright lights and serpents - c. bukowski