Caren Krutsinger Poet Prose Poetry

Come In Come In

We have a new store.
Come in! Come in!
There are two eager sales ladies.
They pour me coffee and give me a Danish.
This is a clothes store?
Do they really want my sticky fingers on their merchandise?

How do you like this?
What do you think of that?
One of them is dragging me away from the things I wanted to see
to pretend I like things I do not like.

The other one comes into the dressing room with me.
We know you are not a thief, she tells me. But some are. Laugh.
I run from the store screaming, with their coffee cup in hand.
They will no doubt call the cops but I am not going back in there.

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Wendy Watson July 21, 2019 at 2:39 AM With a title like this how could I refuse to enter into your poetic world,Caren! I know exactly what you mean and for me, it is not only over-enthusiastic staff that send me fleeing but the superfluous loud music that blasts out at me! You wrote this in such a way that I really felt your irritation and I also found it amusing! Caren Krutsinger July 21, 2019 at 6:36 AM I did feel sorry for them. They told me they were best friends, owning a store together was their lifelong dream, and in three months they were out of business.