Thursday, March 4, 2010

6

Tuesday night in a 7-11.
His shift began on a stool
with no place to put his hands.

He looked out a window and couldn't tell
what was outside
and what was a reflection.

7-11 flickered in cheap neon lights.
He blinked,
and it appeared on the wall

which was white,
and the floor was white,
and the mat by the door was gray,

and whoever made it that way
must be home with a book and kids
warming up coffee he'd bought when it was still light out.

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