at the drugstore

a small group has gathered waiting to be called

in order to pick up prescriptions.

I was distracted by a middle-aged, pot-bellied man

dressed in baggy chino slacks and a blue teeshirt reading: 

”I’m with Stupid” with an arrow pointing toward his left.

he was alone, so I surmised that the person

with the corresponding teeshirt reading: “I’m Stupid”

sans the necessity of an arrow, was somewhere else,

tidying up, or frying some eggs, or looking through the catalog

of frightening drugstore doodads.

I glanced to his left, curious as to what else he might

consider to be stupid;–– shampoo, deodorant, toothpaste,

tweezers in blister packs, and so on.

he was also wearing new-looking cheap knock-off

boat shoes, the kind that’ll never look appropriate for

any deck apart from the one in his backyard.

with time on my hands I reasoned that along with my 90 day supply

of 20 MG Simvastatin tablets, I should nab one of those snazzy blister-

packed sets of silvery tweezers to yank that annoying nose hair which

has been tickling may facial senses for the past few days, when from

behind the florescent-smeared counter, my last name is shouted

with the authority and mispronunciation it righteously deserves.