is the supermarket a "house of pleasure"
that it closes its doors on holocaust memorial day?
are the workers inside?
are they pleasuring themselves?
under bright lights
with the fruits
and the vegetables
the bread sticks
and the soft, warm government whole loaves?
are they sprawled across the aisle
where the liquor stands
laughing and playing amidst the mounds
of burst bags of candy and marshmallows
their hands and faces and bodies sticky with ecstasy?
here i am stuck on the lonely, desolate sidewalk
in the quiet, empty night
with nobody to beg a dime from
and nothing i'd be able to use it for