R.W. Lesmeister

I Came Here To Buy 2% Milk
R. W. Lesmeister

The dog I love,
the form to follow chaos,
the nine-to-five job.
Out to lunch is an
understatement.
Empty spaces
behind empty faces
it’s a delayed time
in the mind of another.
I came here to buy
two percent milk,
left with two percent of her mind.
I never met a Pop Tart I didn’t like,
yet I’m sober enough to know I’m drunk.
Even then, this place is as good as
new for the moment and some after.
There is always somewhere for words,
self checkout is not the place.
Stirred up and shut down
wrecked and tangled
heavy on the heart
keeping myself in check
all the way back home.