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

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