two hundred years later

having never

entered the enormous store,

a box

like hangar where

airplanes

could be stored,

i showed the man my 

newly minted card,

and he let me

in.

i had been

frozen for two hundred

years

in the crevice

of an iceberg of Newfoundland.

i remember

hunting and fishing

for sustenance,

skinning animals

for their covers,

to stitch my clothes.

everyday was about

survival.

eating and not being eaten.

but now this, this enormous

store

that possesses everything

one could ever

need.

so many using their government

cards.

surely we're near

the end of times.

there's no purpose in life

anymore.