Rubberneck

There they go
Hollow-eyed aimless
Boxes in hand
For the last time
Out the door

Don’t stop don’t stair
Maybe just slow down
Steal a glance
They look like us
Could have been

What is lost?
A badge, a title, a W2?
Emails, to-dos?
Gaunt recognition?
Happiness?

-T. Weeks
(A response to “Patroling Barnegat”)