My Death
3:30 in the afternoon, twenty years from now at Bowdon Piggly Wiggly.
I toss bread on the shelf as the sun shines into the faces of highschool cashiers, then fall.
I remember lying on the cool white tile while customers surround me,
forming a dark halo surrounded by fluorescent light.
Earlier today, I unloaded twenty packed pallets, ordered the store,
touched up the endcaps, took down some aisle stacks, and rebuilt the wall.
As the people around me murmur, Duran Duran’s Hungry Like a Wolf echoes down aisles.
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