you spot them in the store
as you fill your cart
with a meal for one, you see
the young men, some old,
some as old as you are. they
wander with a glazed look,
sheep to the slaughter,
a bunch of store flowers
banded in their fists.
the thin plastic wrinkling
as they move.
a heart shaped box of milk
chocolates under their arms.
they step lightly towards
the row of cards.
the pinks and reds,
the cupids with arrows
pointing, bloodied.
they move and read from
card to card, trying to decide
whether to go funny,
or sweet, serious, or
deadly serious with words
like adore and love, or
forever written inside.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment