He went because the fridge was bare,
And Beer can stand in for plans.
The street took him with no fuss.
Phones lighting girls’ smiles as they passed—
Not at him, no, but somewhere just beyond
Where he had once been.
An old man in a cap moved carefully,
Like the ground will shift.
Inside the fluorescent store,
He took a bottle from where the others stood,
Cold, interchangeable.
Outside light dulled a shade.
He walked back slowly, beer in hand,
Something settled in place, hard to name.
He noticed this
Nothing was pressing on him
Just an accumulation of the world.
Home, lock turned.
He sat and opened it.
The sound was small, precise, and quickly gone—
