Waiting At the Grocery Store
Waiting at the Grocery Store
Looking around, my fingers fidgeting a multicolored scarf,
Searching through pockets for a letter that needs to be read,
a phone call message I need to hear, but there are none.
And I am going over the list one more time,
Standing semi-still under artificial lights,
Balancing on alternate limbs
For a carton of skim milk, a loaf of French bread, coffee grounds, cream.
With the arm of a dangling child, a mother rushes by
Pushing cold rubber wheels across the linoleum.
The frantic woman at the register cries about her coupon.
Preparing for a battle, she shakes her head
And waves the war flag,
Fifty-five cents off a box of Lucky Charms.
She spits discontent at a tiny, gray haired cashier.
“Expired?”
In the distance a child is being abused.
There will be no gum, no M&Ms, no sugar-silence.
The man behind me chimes, “Man, these lines. Never seen such lines.”
And he lies about a place where there are no lines.
He looks in my eyes, tries.
I barely nod, no need for provoking conversation.
Like the man at the bar who mistook, “Hello” for “Let’s go ****.”
The back of my head still throbs.
And I hate them all.
And I shift away, burning in my skin under the artificial lights,
Waiting for waiting.
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