what sam built

III. acquainted

fingers clasp the
handle and feet
step with the rolling
wheels. step to match
the current until
you can step away
from them all.
step away and
step towards
your own space.
never mind choosing
from only what’s
inside this place.

arms crane out
to load item
after item.
your items.
weighed down even
still the cart moves.
eyes scan.
rainbow color,
furry characters,
priced, displayed,
all there waiting
for you.
acquainted now,
intoxicated as if
potions seep
through vents until
one makes petunias out
of crabgrass.

in a glimmer
the projection flickers.
a roach climbs
over your ankle.
an adhesive has bonded
your palms to the grip.
the cart takes you down
another pallid aisle.

imagine your
body from a distance.
with leaden feet,
mechanical arms,
vacant eyes.
there’s only
a deadness.
not to mention your
new smile.



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