Walgreens
Life at the local pharmacy
the local walgreens
where my kids scoured the candy aisle
under hymie glick’s watchful eye
hersheys, bubble tape, sour patch kids;
today I am back
for my covid booster.
next to the toothpaste
are two old guys on folding chairs, clutching medicare cards.
the pharmacist has bad skin, a ponytail,
latex gloves despite my allergy clearly marked on the form provided.
he motions me to sit behind the privacy screen
before sliding the needle into my left arm.
back when my kids were young
this place smelled like permission.
still and all
i find myself more thankful than melancholy
three minutes into the possibility of adverse reaction
in this neighborhood nexus of past and odd present.
beyond the cashier the parking lot shimmers.
walgreens holds me close for two more minutes. then, i rise,
pretend to leave.