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.

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