Ode to a Grocery Store

To me, they sell memories.

Of a first high school job

And college job, too.

Responsibility and first paychecks

And bosses who played second dad.

Of the car that burned up

In the parking lot

For real.

“Would the customer with a gray Ford Mustang

Please return to the customer service counter--

Your car is on fire.”

Of those silly shopping carts

Shaped like cars

That the children loved

But were so hard to steer

That we took the turns

At wide angles

Of the years I made deals

With two guerrillas

Jonesing for candy at checkout

Just five more minutes

And we’re through

One more aisle to go

Of today’s half empty cart

With no Gatorade

or pasta needed

In record time

And for half the bill

Maybe the cart’s half full?