Midnight Mecca
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There aren't enough poems about being high in a gas station in the dead of night and I seek to fix that. Written in 2019.
Fluorescent lights hummed
a monotone drone,
In the background,
the resonant chimes and dings
of the cash register sing.
A lone moth fluttered
past my empty dome
Light, purposeless,
similar to myself.
Glassy eyes wandered back,
staring deep into the infinite
assembly line I could not help
but lose myself in.
Neon nectars beckoned me
like a sugary siren,
I was a drunken sailor
to their decadent call.
I lost and found myself,
aisle after aisle
Until a warmth, a glow,
near divine, graced me.
A fresh soft pretzel
beckoned me to my very soul,
Golden yeast skin
cheddar cheese veins,
The savior I needed
to feel at ease again.
Copyright © B. Andrew Kelly | Year Posted 2023
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