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The temptation row
of alcohol and ice-cream
are under lock and key
at the Salvation Supermarket.
A transvestite’s figure looks
better than all the women
in the produce aisle
and spent lottery tickets
slither under my slippery soles.
By the frozen peas
I thought I saw a woman smile at me,
but Botox had shaped her wrinkles
into a permanent grin,
the cold had made her proud
and my hunger led me on.
Now, I wait at the check-out stand
of no regret
fighting the urge to go back
and squeeze some fruit.
copyright 2004
Jerry
Garcia |
