Work

Beneath palms

And under arms

Back against the

Casting call to

The work of it all

The sweat of the pits

In the doldrums

Pounding feet on the

Floors of the grocery store

When they ask me to show

What they’re looking for

Beating fleeting shoppers

For sales of pasta sauce

To fill the bill of

The tickering black marks

Of Bicks striking

Parts of the bits and

The prices you fly by

In a grocery cart

Run to fill this and that

Happy requests for that

That thing that you forgot to fill

Like sugar or applesauce

Love of the lower cost

Clogging up all of the isles

And fenders them mean

Renders, frenzies and

Screams as I’m forced

To walk by with a smile

And happy am I

All the while

I don’t need to

Go down that isle