Poetry Because
Because the pharmacy was closed//and everyone is alone//in their cars//as digital clouds move over the gated neighborhoods//Because they thought of everything//like the old lady who keeps her miniatures in the glassed dining cabinet//Because it covered my ears//when the parents quarreled upstairs//old boyfriends made flat tires in alleyways//where I stood at the corner// Because the old lady with too much rouge //always side-eyes you at the checkout// knowing you’ve slipped a thing or two//in a deep winter pocket// Because you can’t unswallow the pill// Because the man at the gas station heaved a racial slur at the woman in the sari//pumping gas//like any citizen//Because someone is always in hiding in a secret back room//Because her kisses were dry as the slip covers//Because I was sure the moon was following me home// from the corner mart//Because lunch in a brown paper bag//was better than what//technology promised//The AI Lady//in the commercial speaks in vernaculars// tells you no money down on windows—“No. Nada. Zilch”—as if she had looked out the window //of lived experience.
Cynthia Atkins