silent checkout

Free Verse

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the next town over has the smallest grocery store in the county
the kind with two ice machines on the outside; both broken
the bathroom is appropriately located through swinging doors behind the meat counter
the kind where young women get accosted by a friendly face only to vanish for good

it’s where i go to buy all of my food with rare exception; pie
it’s the sort that has no music and only one employee over the age of twenty; manager
its selection forces a man to think creatively if not angrily about his meals
it’s the sort that carries a few items never seen elsewhere, yet is missing obvious mainstays

there is no overpowering aroma of produce to welcome its shoppers; floor wax
there’s no cool air or pimple-faced stock boys wearing aprons to cover the virginal body language
there’s no escaping the fact i was once arrested in aisle four with no one left to remember it
and there is nowhere else i can imagine frequenting that will protect this routine; specter-like