cart guy
by Michelle Morgan ‘24
mr. twombly is alive again outside this walmart tonight,
sitting sweatpants-cross-legged on the
soggy cinderblocks,
smoking a cigarette and younger now
than he was in rome ten years ago.
in the bag is some benzoyl peroxide,
on the box a pair of decrepit hands in spanish,
a lighter and a best friend and a
half-off valentine
blowing smoke at the moon.
lost our names in the
empty parking lot,
scraped new ones from
the gum on the sidewalk,
stuck them on and nobody knew the difference.
the hi-vis vest pushing carts will never know us again.
tonight we are cy,
lost among so many artists,
so many faces,
so many walmarts.