Sarah A. Chavez
Two of the people
I loved the most
from the ages of
12 – 20 are dead.
This thought creep
sneaks weaves into
my thoughts
at the oddest times . . .
Can I help you ma’am?
a saleswoman in a mask
asks from behind
the Amazon return
counter at Kohl’s
where I stand, looking
at nothing. I say,
My friends are dead.
And don’t call me ma’am.