Untitled by: Crystal Brooke Waters, Acrylic paint, 2015.
Natural Insanity
by: Amelia Petrini
On cold mornings, wind’s howlin’
an old vacuum’s trudging along on
disheartened, discolored laminate floors
while ancient automatic doors
perpetually open and close
with a sound like a Tardis’ call.
There’s a constant chatter combined
with the metallic clatter of carts
squeaking, determinedly pushed down
aisles and aisles
of gluten-free, dairy-free Paleo boxes
and raw chocolate bars,
Only ten dollars each!
Out of the darkness emerges an
ungodly cacophony of sounds
only hell could conceive.
Shrill shrieking; sensations of terror
engulf me—
a tantrum begins on aisle three.
Three minutes of drama;
drumming echoes of the banshee call
emitted from the mouths of baby
harpies ring on in my memory.
Minimal damage has been done to my
psyche, but damn if that wasn’t loud, I
stand there losing myself
in a constant stream of beeps
shouting out at me through the
ringing machine.
It’s like instant replay all day, every
day, no way to escape the maddening
sound of inane declarations of the
same five thoughts all day.
Finally.
A deep sigh is heard
ringing ‘cross the register lanes
as the clock strikes 8:04 and those
obnoxiously maddening doors remain
closed another twelve hours more.
Stool legs scraping against those
damned discolored floors
and the clinking of coins as we all
count out our drawers is like sweet,
graceful music to brains saturated
from the script of the day.