Out Like a Lamb

To Market

One day, before I pay I check out
first and disappear from view;
an assistant (sans magician)
whisked away without his words

both eyes fill until my vision blurs:
the cans and jars and cartons
all the clerks, the carts, a child
circles, spilled and blended be

If I can't see them,
         they can't see me

all the way to tears, I find the tea
and shred a box to bits, confetti
camouflaged as chamomile but
without a trace of calm, of warm

and I am gone, abandoned trolley,
raptured out. I split banana-style
back in time, invisible, up up and
away; escaped, a smiling Supergirl.


note ▼

The unexpected...