Spent the week on sedatives
Doused. Dosed, redeemed.
Feel strange
in the company of elderly men insisting
on pushing themselves up
from grocery store scooters to
prove
they have what it takes
to slide their debit card into the machine.
Dosed in lines
Doused in pastel dresses to remind myself
how it feels
in the darkness – free to become whatever
that elderly man grunted.
Persisted.
Joked to the cashier clerk a minor
Of age. Gaps. How it goes.
Took several moments to describe that Honda motorcycle
he once owned in the cashier’s age.
Ten cases of Coca-Cola and six bottles of Gatorade
That’ll get him home
Fall into the recliner
And mutter how good a day it was
and a good day it was.
