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We are strangers, you and I,
We might meet at the door.
Did you pause, let me pass by?
Doesn't happen much, any more.
I have done them all, big and small,
from North to South, East to West;
petty fifedoms, hear them call,
shop here, we are the best.
The doors open for me
The stench overwhelms my senses.
I grab a cart from the stack of them
Thinking of all my expenses.
Know your product, know your store?
There's either too little or too much.
Do what you can, persevere;
Stock levels? Decision not yours, as such.
I find the items that I need
Then run to check out.
I try to find the fastest aisle
Then try another route.
Courtesy is a "must", even if not in return;
a smile is optional. Leave "home" at home;
easy to say. On what you earn,
it's a question of how far you can roam.
The clerk knows nothing of my plight
Nor how much I hate to shop.
I find the ability to be kind to them
Only because they force me to stop.
Les Bush and Josephine L. A. Ranes
Tagged in les bush