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Shelf life
Pissed, he wet himself
and
collapsed in the store;
where lined on shelves
were a gallery of glossy mags,
showing expensive cars
he
never drove or owned,
and
happy families he
was
not a part of,
with talc-rolled babies
he
had'nt held or rocked
in
immaculate gardens
watched by perfect mums.
Things he never did
and
never would
loomed over him,
out
of reach,
like this gathering crowd -
not
remotely touched.
I
watched him sway
towards the doors and
the
wet Wednesday weather,
a
sorry pivot on which
the
entire week should turn,
for
me, for most,
to
relative comfort and love
Christopher Major
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