"bottom dollar bargains", the day old paper proclaims -
today, we're going shopping.
soft nostalgic rock plays, recycled air hits the skin;
an almost rejuvenating cleanse from old regrets.
a back wheel doesn't roll straight, wobbles unsteady and squeaks
but there's no time to get another.
there's rules of engagement for this sort of thing;
"sweep the necessities in the cart. don't think. stroll on."
we shouldn't linger near what we long for in secret,
seeing it languish to waste on the shelf, unloved.
i remember we're out of issues and things to throw
but they're not on the list we're sticking to.
the tenuous peace that sustains us is on backorder;
take a raincheck for it, it's too important to forget.
our poverty denies us what we need; the store brand
is never enough to kill the hunger in your clenched jaw.
with food stamps for the bruises we buy and
coupons for the tears already cried
there's just enough for razors and ice cream.
we stroll to the checkout stand, glance at glossy perfect people
each of us silently praying for the other to be "anyone but you."
$11.08 pays in full the cost of caged survival,
the price of never being angry enough to leave ...
hmm, a full three dollars less than the last trip.
double bag the wretched hopelessness, it'll leak on the seat. |
Submission Name: razors and ice cream
