supermarket

you see them
lean towards
the store,
on canes, bent
with years.
exiting the white
bus with the wide
doors and
hatch that
let's out the
wheeled ones.
silvered and
whitened, along
the coasts of
their bodies.
clutching cupons
and purses, hats
and gloves,
quietly moving
towards and
into, finally,
the market where
the gloom
and cool of neon
scares them
even further.
there is no comfort
here, but just
reminders of
what is being
left behind.