Convenience Store

This one here is a microwave world, we are sheltering our love from love. 
I sit down in a convenient store. 
I drink a cup of coffee.

I look at the plastic bottles with pink lids standing on the shelves like proud flamingos. 
They are indestructible promises of freedom, their feet ringed with price tags. 
I admire the grandeur of ChapStick, 
cotton swabs, 
single-use razors in their firm silence.

Here, in this strange luminance, nothing happens. 
Outside, the sky is white. 
All love remains accidental, waiting for us 
in polyethylene bags.