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