Fragments of an unfinished poem…

I meet my twin in the office supply aisle.
He is clean shaven, which makes me consider my own place in this mirror universe.
He says, “I just got here. I can’t find anything I need.”
“Try the automotive section,” I tell him. “It’s a good place to start forgetting.
Buy everything for that road trip you’ll never take.”

In the toy aisle, a boy and girl exchange volleys of Nerf darts
labeled with the names of places enchanted by past lovers.
No one else sees the children and their phantom friendly fire.

I approach the express lane.
10 Items or Less.
Both a welcome and a warning.