there was this friend of mine,
cello in hand.
behind the grocery store register,
ringing me up.
i only bought bananas and she charged me $300 extra.
while smiling and fixing the mistake,
men with assault rifles
busted through the automatic doors.
everyone in line hid beneath the register.
it was a tight squeeze.
it was dark, except a crack of light where i could see their feet in combat boots,
their voices gruff,
demanding money at first,
and then in sudden dire need of a landscape architect,someone snickered
and they fired shots at us,
and my skin jumped,
my eyes flinched,
and again!... shells skidding across the ground.
did i die?
was this heaven?
the blare from the clock that read 8:15 caused doubt.
but my friend, where was she?
i shook the sleep from my eyes
to convince myself i was alive.
are you?
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