they know me

they know me
at the pharmacy,
the old
woman says,
holding a small
dog in her arms,
his white face
streaked
with brown tears.
it's closed now,
she says, peering
into the hollowed
room of empty shelves.
they always had
my order ready,
they knew my name.
what now, she says.
everything has
changed. they
knew my name.
do you know
where I can have
my prescription
filled? she asks,
holding out
the wrinkled slip
of paper rippled
by wind and time.