Sundays

Sundays

By Kallen Mohr

i’ve learned not to go out on Sundays

lest the crushing weight of loneliness
drag me down to the hard linoleum in the frozen food aisle
and I forget how to walk

lest I suddenly become self aware of my actions
past and present
under bleaching fluorescent lights
that make a harsh spotlight of my failings

lest the eyes of a stranger bore into me
like a drill
revealing my ransacked
bag of nothing
as the automatic doors deal kindness
not seen on weekdays

i’ve learned not to go out on Sundays

lest i crave funny feelings
and remembering myself
in its entirety

lest i remember at all

lest i forget