In the concrete of the Costco Bay parking lot,
the shopping carriages appear in the morning,
lumbering steel torso ghosts rolling on a paved sea
as if they were never dragged around by strangers
during the day and night before the next sun.
The carriages lurch and scuttle like silver crabs,
but crabs do not know about shopping carriages
and so, sadly, this simile only goes in one direction.
They make their way from one side of the lot
to the lot’s other side at an invisible, glacierly pace.
When people shop at this Costco that is in the world,
they are but also spending time at Costco Bay,
which shares the exact same weather as this Costco.
It’s no use; one cannot avoid vacationing
in beautiful, bustling parking lot Costco Bay
when one spends twenty-five minutes shopping.
And then, when one emerges from the Costco,
one can look out upon the vast parking lot ocean
and see the carriages in their natural habitat,
habitating in silver, quiet schools of rows.
Rich Boucher has published four chapbooks of poetry and once hosted a poetry slam in Newark, Delaware. Since moving to Albuquerque in March of 2008, Rich has been performing and writing steadily in the Duke City. His poems have appeared in The Nervous Breakdown, Adobe Walls, Borderline, Brawler, Hypertext, Missive, Neon, The Más Tequila Review and The Legendary. Hear some of his poems at http://richboucher.bandcamp.com.