Midnight at the drug store

Bells Jingle in July
At the Walgreens down the Street
Twelve men walk in
No eleven
One of them is a woman
She is holding onto the left arm
Of the man in the fishing jacket
And her eyes sag like
Flat tires,
They walk down the aisle
Together to the tune
Of Christmas chimes
Clinging to the promise
Of salvation from something sinister
But just out of
Reach.
Four-fifty, I said,
And hand the aspirin back
To the hunched man
Watch him walk back to his car
Through the branded window.
They are looking at candy now,
Whispering something sweet
In each other’s ears
Covering wet faces with wet kisses
And gripping too tight
Onto each other’s hands,
White knuckles,
Loose sleeves,
A tissue hanging from a back pocket.
There are other men
Who are pretending not to see.
They brush by
And they sweat
And they pretend that
They are just as happy
As jolly old Santa Claus
Clutching to his fur coat
And flying alone
In the dead of winter.