Tears in the supermarket

Poem

I dropped my smile
at the sight of her in the condiment aisle.

When I had selected my mustard,
she was no longer flustered.

Tears marked in mascara
a grimace like Guevara.

She had a trolley to push,
no time to blush.

I respectfully followed,
my shopping list swallowed

She paused by the bakery.
Would it be fakery,

if I offered assistance
taking a sword to the distance

we’re supposed to have in these settings,
as consumerist cretins?

Oh, now she turns,
a stare but no gurns.

An empty look on her face,
the kind you're used to in this place.

I smile wide as she passes.
She sees, and tips her glasses

Then we both take our trolleys
into our worlds of wisdom and follies.

Loading them high
until the day we die.

​

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Posted Sep 29, 2022, 11:05 AM UTC

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