The boy behind the counter laughs nervously
And he knows
Early morning rain
Oil rising to the surface of the asphalt
A crash from the kitchen
And someone yelling for the police
Robbery, robbery!
Everyone is looking at me
My face is flushed and my neck is hot
I forgot my supplies in the trunk of my car
Burlap sack, rough and faded
My shoes are sticking to the floor
It’s so hot in here
Beads of sweat roll down my arms
I might be sick on the linoleum
I want to go home.