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Writer's pictureShane Gannaway

1/4/2024

the supermarket I worked at last year

is closing, liquidating, etc.


I maneuvered the night shift before a friend

gave me a better option, and I said "fuck


it," and left the midnight run. overkill, edge

of seventeen, road to nowhere,


all blasting through stale, cool air, and the

fluorescents emitting that brilliant buzz,


and the light. I remember a co-worker,

pregnant and smoking, somewhere around


5am. police were always tearing down tents.

I wonder where everyone is now. the cracks


in between the sprawl

continue to widen. you can hear it all shatter.

hell, you can see it.

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