Vending

The vending machine clicks against
the Twix bar’s shiny wrapper,
and of course it proves far to good
to be true. His fist comes down
like a hammer on the thick plastic
shield protecting the property
of the unseen candy distributor.
Where are you? He thought to
himself staring at the crooked
candy bar caught on nothing, but still
going nowhere.

He looked around the room, and
saw he was alone, no one could stop him.
Like a mallet into cold meat
he bashed his head into the machine
sending a whistle through his brain.
He did this again until spider-web fractures
came forth from the impact.
He could not leave what was his behind.
He wondered if somewhere there was an alarm
for all this broken glass.
Maybe the unseen distributors were listening?
Maybe they were hiding. Maybe, they were afraid.

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