*Poem best viewed on desktop

By the time I got to the grocery store, the curling clouds had begun
to darken and take hold of the sun. An apprehensive image

bled through the sliding double doors. Smoke breaks shortened 
with the rumble of the charged earth as the smokers stretched and stood

and tapped on the green plastic tower, depositing their burnt ends
above. The cart’s wheels rattled offbeat from the song that chirped

through the tinny speakers on the ceiling. If I throttled my speed,
I could get it to match. I passed the shifting red scanner as it caught

sight of its first target. The beep, beep, beep—a warning. The blue-vested
employee, dead-eyed, touched the screen and returned to his mechanical 

motions. Are you a rewards member with us? An electric hum leaked 
from the customers in their post-work haze. They pushed their own 

carts. They led their own lives. I passed the paper plates stacked 
next to the cat food next to the greeting cards next to the bread next to the beer 

next to the wine next to the mother carrying her baby through
the aisles. Frozen fish and vegan substitutes. Decisions, decisions. An infinite maze

of options and opportunity. An old woman reminded me of my grandmother. I stopped 
to watch her move (I had to make sure). She hawked the tower of gift

cards, her uncertainty marking the changing of the guard. A young couple held 
hands down the way. They stood in front of the Clearblue—99% accurate. Where

did the other percent go? A man checked a peach for the squishy marks 
of brown rot, weighing it in his palm, running his fingers across

its fuzzy face. (Much too ripe.) He put it back. A spot-
faced teenager fled from the Valentine’s flowers, now 60% off. He whispered 

in his mom’s ear and blushed. He chose the dying roses. The baby began 
to cry. The rain whispered across the thin corrugated ceiling. We all raised 

our eyes in response, knowing 
things—knowing nothing.