upon entering the store
at midnight, I stop to
count the bills
in my pocket. a wad of crushed
greens
of varying assorted numbers.
tens and twenties.
I see Lincoln
in the mix and George.
I count them out
as I push
the broken wheel cart
through the grocery
store, down the empty aisles
past the man working,
making a pyramid
out of yellow grapefruits.
I have no clue as to what
to buy, or eat.
so I wander until I do know,
my tipsy brain and grumbling
stomach
leaning towards salt,
towards cake and sweets.
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