stacks apples on
the square board
in the well lit store.
they grow
into a pyramid.
one by one, he puts a
shine on their red skins,
then carefully finds
a place for each of them.
he's wearing a store shirt.
blue with yellow
birds upon it, but
he's not a company man.
it's just a job.
making pyramids out
of apples.
and at night when he goes
home and lies
in bed, alone.
he thinks about his apples.
how quickly the days
of his life are going.
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