The bandit

The Bandit

The “A” in the neon sign is blinking

in and out (out and in)

grave digging shoppers shuffle down

overstocked aisles—

of cereal and shaving cream.

Swoosh of pneumatic doors sweeping a sigh across the floor

when the nocturnal omnivore steals—

silently inside.

She’s got the lay-out with mental map at the ready

quick flick of darting eyes and a hungry agenda.

She’s moving between the rows when I spy her dark eyes

ruined make-up or camouflage (black blue)

she knew where to—

wash her paws before eating pilfered cereal bars.

Wild-eyed Mama with fuzzy slippers sagging

sweats (the “Princess”)

startles our foraging friend—

who scrambles next door to aisle 10.

Stock boy Joe acne screaming and teenage despair

spies our midnight marauder (spiked green hair)

He picks up the radio to whisper—

a warning that the rabid vermin

might pocket a plethora of Chinese imports.

The stealth of her gives me pause

I imagine a million years (of evolution)

when the need gave rise to—

instinctual solutions.

Unnaturalness of starvation in stark contrast

to those creatures slower and less adept—

get fatter by the minute. 

Cruelty (Mother of invention)

when called upon—

the nature of our culture evens

the odds with my bold and beautiful bandit of the Mart.

A final moment before

she escapes out the unlocked Garden Center—

pockets bursting (heart shallow)

She turns to look at me—my wanton pillager

for a second I breathe in the forest deep

or maybe it’s car freshener and cheap floor cleaner.

Thick mischief and cunning wild—

She has paid for what we have stolen.