My grocery store is under siege
by sleepwalkers who show up
in pajamas moping from shelf
to shelf for a precious memory.
There is no one to guide them.
Disposable employees are with-
drawn or unhinged; I saw a clerk
slap a senior shoplifter to the floor.

The butcher who knew your name
had a gentle funeral. St. Rita’s
warm quiet bells called the old
neighborhood together. Almost
everyone wore their best. I watched
it online in a suit & tie. Deli-lovers
from bygone eras filled the pews
with greetings & non-greetings.

Neighbor-strangers are faux-blind.
They position their smug-scented
bodies in front of me at the display
case as if I carry no mass or hunger,
past or plan. When I think I see
a friend at the end of the aisle,
I am always wrong. It was a nobody,
born from the debris of good will.

Paul Joseph Enea’s work has appeared in numerous publications, including Porcupine Literary Review, Wilderness House Literary Review, The Imagist, Portals & Piers, Collidescope, Wisconsin Verse, and Cleaver, where he received an Honorary Mention for his flash fiction. He lives on the Lower Eastside of Milwaukee.