A Poem At The Grocery Store

This is a poem.

This poem begins with the sound of
A grocer’s fingers on his grey calculator
Tapping swiftly, yet softly, creating
Sounds that outlast the conversations of
Customers in the aisles buying
Canned tomato soup and happy memories.

This is a poem.

This poem follows the customers through the
Grocery store, overhearing phone-calls and
Irrelevant banter, situating itself in-between the
Mundane lives of people who spend their
Thursday nights purchasing fresh fruit.

This is a poem.

This poem ends with silence, the kind of
Silence that fills the cashier’s desk at exactly
9:00 pm every night, when the store empties
Itself of all traceable sources of human noise,
And the grey calculator sits, waiting for the
Grocer to come in the next morning.