When The Groceries Fell

sticky syrup exploded
across the air; the
slightly capped soda
became agitated by its
plastic bottle slamming
against the tiled counter;
onlookers watched its
foaming fuel slither
down to the recently
waxed floor, and someone
cussed – like one of the
towers’ nighttime cleaners,
hands still reeking of
bleach, who awoke that
afternoon to empty
skyline and muttered,
what wasted time.

Sonia Halbach

If you have any comments on this poem, Sonia Halbach would be pleased to hear from you.

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