Another Day

These old bodies, Clutched Like paper bags Full of food, Soaking wet In a steady rain, The bottom falling out, Sent Into the parking lot Leaning On The wobbling heels, The wheels of shopping carts. You see, The doctor’s office had been moved To the shopping center Next to Kroger For optimal convenience To the shopper, So the patient follows A path of crumbs Like those seagulls That have permanently Abandoned Water For this sea Of asphalt. To the hospital She goes, Holding her heavy heart To her chest Pressed Against The steering wheel MRI. The blaring horn won’t shut up. On the way, NPR, With extraordinary Casualness, Reports That, Today The Rusty-Patched Bumblebee Has been placed On the Endangered List. She thinks As she listens To the faint buzz Of calamity How quietly. How calmly. How privately, For all the expected hullabaloo, How actually The Apocalypse Unfolds So ordinarily, True As a light Left on For the entirety Of night In an empty room. They say, At the ER, That they’ve Been Expecting her. An obese man Sits across from her In the waiting room, Wired up to a wild, dripping octopus. His T-Shirt reads In big blue letters, ATTENTION K MART SHOPPERS.