I’m standing
In the queue
Awaiting for my turn
In front of.. eh.. a girl
Of someth about eighteen;
To hip attached a canteen
It dangles somehow attractive
Am I a passive or an active
Dunno
A lot of groceries around
The sterile bdzeeen of cash-registers click open
The line behind me is growing
But receding in front of me
And that’s what only matters: To be
Not the last, to have someone behind to back
You; my turn at last; decide to take a Doublemint
To cool my breath to conceal the reek of a beer;
She beep-beeps my goods; slashes the throat of
A machine with my card; return it to me
and then leaves me be; and I leave