Alternate Agenda

The alarm burns my eyes until it freezes;
finally, we rise and enter the store.
No one knows us as the owner fades in.
This is the movie of anyone buying
products eaten inward by the camera.
Only background music repeats in seconds.
Our duty to remember is forgotten
to the point that hearts crack open secretly,
oozing episodes of grooved flesh-bound touches.
Re-enter the street, which remains outside,
a stroke upon our avenues necessary;
traffic relinquishes into smiles again.
We travel on paths that pretend us home.