Buying Liquor On A Monday

A poem about freedom

The aisle is wide and empty
But full of a favorite substance of mine
I stride up to the whiskey
Collect one
And a vodka for my friends
On the off chance they ever came over

The clerk looks disappointed
But she stays rather quiet
And I take some small pride
In her subtle fear

Then I drive home
With my prizes
And an impulse candy or two
And the sun paints the sky
Orange
Spattered with orange-gray clouds
That seemed to bounce back the soundwaves
Of the music from my car

Rock
Maybe rap
I can’t remember
But I knew in that moment
All the flavors of freedom