by Sam Hendrian
A Saturday afternoon comprised
Of coupon compromises
Among stockroom on-the-clockers
Who wish people knew how to read hours of operation.
Lingerie shops compete
To see who can best fetishize denim
And which A-list actress turned B-list model
Can master that “I don’t care” stare.
Public displays of affection
By eighth-grade graduates
Who will still laugh when their freshman bio teacher
Brings up sexual reproduction.
Mothers and fathers checking their checking accounts
While pretending to check the time
So that the kiddos aren’t alarmed
By their financial anxiety.
Invisible janitors trade glances
With shelter-in-place vagrants
Whose noses are seduced by special-occasion restaurants
They’d probably be chased out of.
A cookie for the road
Or perhaps a Wetzel’s pretzel,
Temporary protection
From life’s perpetual discomfort.