Grocery Poems - Poems about Grocery

Five items in my shopping cart. Pull into the line for fifteen items or less. One customer ahead of me. Middle-aged woman with twenty items arguing with the clerk. I have an appointment in half an hour. “Lady, you have too many items!” If looks could kill, she’d be dead. ...

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glanced at grocery list bananas..... nature's recipe ...

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I look to my right And there’s a bin of stuffed animals just like the one you bought me I look to my left And there’s your favorite flavor of ice cream I look down And I see your Nebraska sweatshirt I couldn’t let them throw away So I think maybe Just maybe And I look up. But there's no trace of you in...

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It's always Aldi on a Sunday afternoon. You're always waiting with your shopping bags in hand, slowly trudging along with your walking stick. It takes you ten minutes to get into the car. You never let me help and say "I'll manage son." But sadness overcomes my heart, like someone is...

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That moment I step in- front, automatic sliding doors, of my favorite grocery store 'open-wide' slide apart this transcends my being, automatically... into manifest... visions of what were to come- entered in a time she was gliding down a busy Aisle, on her way to unpredictable places, then at that moment... instantly- I'm all a glow, watching her go-ha-go near decorative doughnut...

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stepping through the automatic doors of a brand new grocery store is a peek into another world there’s no sandwich counter here, a tragedy— but the frozen aisle in the center of the store you have to take the bad with the good....

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I must have dropped my unconscious mind in the home & garden aisle yesterday in a dream the intercom crackles to life, tickling my ears a familiar voice calls out reminding me that I need to water my houseplants soon...

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ten feet away from the woman with sunken, tired eyes, sifting through her coupons a crumpled dollar bill is flattened against a man’s paint splattered, sun-stained jeans. he walks out, pockets lined with possibility, she walks out with a stooped back. the automatic door slides open for the both of them all the same....

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The last page of my notebook was filled today. One last scratch on its timeless pages reads: watermelon radish spicy water dinosaur kale dragonfruit (?) pepitas all scrawled in a quick, cursive hand & I fell in love with her all over again....

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At any given moment, someone is stocking shelves Putting the ping-pong balls next to the beer, Ketchup next to the hot dog buns, Strawberries next to the shortcake mixes. In the parking lot cherry pits line the concrete gutters All things in their proper place....

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I’ve started seeing faces of once strangers reappear with time they don’t spare a smile for me perhaps I’m still a stranger to them the mother with a cart full of fresh produce and peanuts, a daughter eating grapes the steel-toed man at the sandwich counter who eats absolutely no tomato I can feel the warmth in the quilted fabric of our lives, slowly...

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a young man reaches for green tea with lemon but the shelf is empty and he sighs it’s the tiny deaths in life that prepare you for the big one...

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cracking like a bat the summer storm moves in quick like ants to aisle nine where chocolate chips litter the floor & the culprit runs away, scared of the thunder...

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mosquito candles light the table on my porch they sit alight in their little chrome saucers each one trembles at an exhale of smoke, dancing gracefully out of the way this all seems incredibly natural to me. I dance the same way when a mother with four kids barrels down aisle three racing to get to the cereal...

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some people smile with their eyes some people frown with their eyebrows some people celebrate with candles & fireworks some people mourn among cans of black beans like the woman I saw, sobbing with her eyes & mouth in aisle twelve some people don’t have a safe place to cry...

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