The Hum After Ten

The choice between two oat cereals took too long.

Suddenly, the main aisle's lights began to fade,

a slow descent, where brightness had been strong.

Another section followed, unafraid

to plunge the rows of cans to half-lit gloom.

The last few shoppers, hunched, hurried their carts.

Then the hum of the refrigerators filled the room,

a sound usually drowned by busy starts

and stops, by voices. Now it was all there,

filling the empty spaces, a deep drone.

I heard a distant rattle, metal, bare,

as someone pushed a single cart, alone,

across the tiles. A tired, distant sound.

Just the skeleton of a day, breaking ground.