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Angel in a Drugstore

By Isabella Melians


at 7pm in july

a prayer is carved into the side 

of a red can

vermillion paint nestles beneath your nails 

and the liquid drips like saliva 

from your fingertips 

and onto the floor

you feel alone

the videocameras do you no justice

they paint you as ethereal 

they do not show your purple-ringed eyes

or chipped tooth

or unkempt hair

don’t they know you are tired?

you are not flawless 

you are not holy

in here,

life does not exist 

can you feel the desolation 

of humid air

and of empty wrappers lying dusty on tiles floors

no longer promising a short lived ecstasy 

silence echoes in moldy aisles 

can you feel the call of the void?

outside gasoline drips

on the chalky, cruel pavement 

knitting it’s way through cracks

and claiming lives:

a dandelion 

an ant 

and thistle 

you wonder if they felt pain

He drives away in a rusted pickup truck

with flowers sprouting 

in the tailpipe

their petals painted grey from exhaust 

the mirrors are shattered,

the license plate missing-

He doesn’t look back

you are nothing to Him

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