Programmed Cell Death

Up and down the shining aisles
 The all-night grocery store on Melrose
 Dozens of us exiles from the mother-ship
 The whole wide Western world is at our fingertips
 The while moon hangs high above the city
 And while the night begins to flex its jaws
 We meet up like a loos-knit congregation
 Or like spies who need to pass on information
 How much longer are we supposed to stay alive?
 Gathering by the Portuguese sardines in aisle five
 Mounds of California avocados
 Like offerings to an unresponsive god
 I wore my suit from Hong Kong to the store tonight
 'Cause it fits me just right
 And suddenly the lights out in the parking lot
 Begin to burst like sodas under pressure
 One by one they throw themselves against the night sky
 And almost unremarked upon the moment passes by
 Though one or two of us
 Point our fingers outside
 Eyes glazed, mouths wide
 Listening to that still small voice within us
 Doesn't seem to do us any good
 Try to take that in stride
 And try to let the moment slide
 And we fiddle with our cellphones
 Until our thumbs are sore
 And the music on the speakers overhead
 Is fainter than the voices of the dead
 How much longer
 Are we supposed to stay alive?
 Gathering by the Portuguese sardines in aisle five