I meander through the aisles, absent from the task at hand
and the list you’ve meticulously scrawled for me on the back of an envelope.
I neglect the SPAM and the Hamburger Helper if only because you’re not here to harass.
And I see HIM standing there.
Looooong black jacket, pants, shirt, and shoes.
Looooong black hair and top hat with a silver skull upon it.
Goth would be too trite, wondering if your reflection can withstand mine and call it as I see it:
Vampire works for me, and I’m haunted because I mean no malice, but it lingers regardless.
Until I see the bite mark tattoo.
Absolved of my sin, knowing I am safe,
slipping by as you mesmerize customers in search of one thing or another.
Flickering fluorescent castle catacombs of the supermarket maze.
I met you today, outside your element, the fantasy of your profession.
You need the coffee to stay awake during the day.
An egg sandwich because you’re saving your pennies.
We joke of the quality of the Weis store bagels, because we buy them two departments down.
It doesn’t surprise me one bit you moonlight in the meat department,
training to be certified to wield those blades.
So he’s human, just like the rest of us.