I came to the entrance of the supermarket
Notice boards full of posters of a family
Lost written in the middle in bold
I'd buy my food and call it therapy
I walked back out realizing I had no cart
Loud speaker breaking the cool quiet of the day
Blurting out a family is looking for their father
The shopping cart resembled a cage
Up the in ramp with a clatter
a man with bulldog cheek features was leaving
Came dangerously close
His dull eyes just said he was too tired to live
The vibrations of the full laden cart over the bitumen
hitting his face sneding tiny shockwaves
Through that lethargic anhedonia
I pushed past and back into that bright light
accumulating packs and tins and wraps
Of the brands narrowing and opeing eyes
Monitored by the central system
One asks themselves how long have I got?
when will I be culled off some plastic sleeved sofa
Slightly overweight and slobbering
Still attempting to convince the world
With slogans from my typical period
I pushed back out of the supermarket
My face vibrating like an astronaut moonward
Alas just the same as the last middle aged man
tiny nylon wheels jittering
Clanging when I fit it back into the train of them
Whoop crack as I open back door to put the food in
A simple consumer, living the hollow motions
between useful shifts
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