Priorities
She was wearing her pajamas,
while standing at the checkout stand.
There were pink curlers in her hair,
a box of twinkies in here hand.
A screaming child was on each arm,
two more crying brats in the cart.
One was pulling the fire alarm,
one was tearing boxes apart.
Half of the boxes were open,
cereal spilling on the floor.
The two kids just kept on screaming,
about how they needed some more.
Felt sorry when her total hit,
three seventy-eight and a dime.
‘Til she chose not to buy the meat,
kept the beer, cigarettes, and wine.
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