drugstore people


i watch each moment commit suicide

jumping off the face of a clock

tick tock


i look at my own face in the mirror

i've become a poor imitation of myself


at the act of myself


i think about driving off a bridge

money for the wife and kid

a little romantic attention for me

decide to drive to the drugstore

to get gatorade for the hangover instead


the drugstore people are there

out of work, lonely, addicted

to tv commercials


maybe the bridge after gatorade


i see her in the candy aisle

hunched over, old, young, retarded, genius

she is mumbling something to the hershey bars


her face is scarred by tme, tears and beatings

her hair is as thin as ice cycles on a dying christmas tree

and she is obsessively fixing a hair ribbon

that has nothing to live up to


the hershey bars stare her down


i see her again outside

as i am walking to my car

she looks at me and mumbles

god bless you

god bless you


tugs on the hair ribbon and moves to the next




i drive home

crack the gatorade

light a smoke

count the days until

i can get my pain pill

script refilled