Glass doors shift, a quick glance reveals
a man cautiously clutching a box to his chest.
Life support? No. As he approaches
it clicks and hisses at the register.
The smell of hand sanitizer filling my eyes.
Never in all my days at Rite Aid...
Radio is responding. They are coming.
Must escape. Must find shelter.
Wait, can't leave. The cameras will see.
A boy wearing a disguise. Looking too eager.
Standing by the register. Smells of fast-food.
He can't be saved. Brain washed so young.
Making eye contact, he backs into Aisle 5
"Do you need help finding something sir?"
Rushing past he brushes against my uniform
mixing the stench of dust and sanitizer.
Alone in Aisle 5. Glass doors shift.
Didn't even make it to the Pharmacy...
Bright lights outside. Must go home.
Must get to safe house. By the water.
They don't like water. Doesn't taste good.
Cars pass quickly. Highway becoming deadly.
Must be feeding time. Must go home.
Close to the water. They don't like water.
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