Caught in the longest line,

like your,

my foot in a bear trap.

11 items.

The light will go off, just ahead of me and the person in front of me,

who had 12 items,

and well be stuck with melting ice cream, together.

Standing at the edge of woods, looking now at a cabin that has no lights,

afraid to step on yet another bear trap.

We will melt together.

melting in our warm, entitled, sticky hands.

I’ll stand there,

mouth agape at yet another full moon,

with echoes pouring out

“take me with you“

and the moon smiles back, and whispers something about spare change.

There is talk of serial cereal behind me,

behind us, behind them.

Spoken in cipher,

sung in unison

shouted from balconies,

and

discussed behind empty shelves.

From beyond the produce aisle, and the catacombs that lie beneath.

far away from the apricots,

the ice cream has officially melted as I slither into a different mundane line,

amongst so many other snakes.

Still waiting my now neopolitan turn,

Shoes still squeaking on the waxy floor,

they even squeak when you don’t move.

Melting,

squeaking

with so many others,

and their ice cream,

and their bottles of bleach.

I will wait until the conveyer belts moves my 11 items,

waiting for the fluorescent lights to adjust to your

my eyes.

waiting patiently for the hot water to run out,

as the water waits patiently on me,

anxiously waiting to get even further away from the Apricots.