Thunder
Standing in
a never-ending aisle
pulling things out of boxes
red, white,
blue
robotically
piling them into
neat rows in
neat shelves
the floor
rumbles and I
nearly tip
over at the sound
of a hundred
elephants
trampling the roof tiles
and the
ceiling almost crashes
down on me
thrust into
shadow
I look around, panicked
but there is nowhere to hide
people rush by
and I am frozen
someone
calls my name
but it’s not who I’m looking for
I follow because
she’s scared too
ushering
people out
people who
are not scared
who would
laugh at us
if they knew
the truth
she finds a
comfort, but
I am alone
again
I sprint
rush
until I’m in
the place
with all the
windows
lightning
cracks the sky
three
four times
and I take
out my
box cutter and
sink like jeans
that slowly go down
in the water
when they
get wet
until I’m
leaning
against the register
holding me
up
a hand on my
back
guiding me
in the
dim light
until I open
my eyes
and see that
no one is
with me
© Amanda Hall
