Friday, August 10, 2012



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

I sprint
until I’m in the place
with all the windows
lightning cracks the sky
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