Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dream Fisher Feb 13
Six people in every line,
I wait the time, it's really fine.
I'm sure they're busy, no need to tizzy,
The cashier looks dizzy in a rush.
While the man in front of me is getting flushed
He's yelling incoherently for all to see,
Apologies, sir, the rest of us
Have no place to be as you believe.
The line is moving,
placing everything on the conveyor
They're out of plastic so they bag in paper.
The cashier scans all of it in ten seconds flat
"Cash or card, sir?" I forgot my wallet.
Time to put it all back
monique ezeh Jan 5
Looking for the “watermelon girl” from Sam’s Club earlier. I thought you looked like you were planning a party, but maybe you just really liked fruit. I watched you put six melons in the cart and then make a call. You nodded and held the phone between your cheek and shoulder, adding seven more melons to the cart. One of them dropped and rolled towards me. I picked it up and gave it to you, joking, “Have enough yet?” (Stupid joke, sorry) You responded, “I hope so. She always loved melons.” Then I noticed the tears on your face. I left you to finish your conversation.

Anyway, I was the guy with the bad joke and the brown hair. Wearing a green button down and blue jeans. You were the girl with dark curly hair and a blue dress. And the watermelons.

I hope it ended up being enough. I hope you see this.
S I N Dec 2019
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
Josh Jul 2019
Hi
You're beautiful
The sun agrees
Anthropological wonder
Space-Time light rider
Careless to be careful
Just because I'm under
Magenta minds eye
Deep intent
Majestic tight bright
I would lick the floor where you stand
Dilated
ashley lingy Nov 2018
I don't know who I am exactly...

and I think I'm ok with that.

Because I get to choose who I'm going to be every day

when I wake up in the morning.

As far as tomorrow goes,

I hope the sun shines through my window...

I need a warm reminder that brighter days lie ahead.

I need help to rise with a pep in my step,

hopefully with productivity and a plan in mind.

Because this year...

I will brave the treacherous aisles of the grocery store in the days before thanksgiving.

And I will be nothing if not gloriously triumphant in my quest.

I hope.

I pray.
sunprincess Apr 2018
Hi, Mr. Handsome Superstar
walking through the grocery store

You're not a god, you're not Thor
You're only mortal and nothing more

So why would anyone place
you upon a pedestal?
There was a gorgeous guy at the grocery store
maybe he was a god, who knows for sure?
sunprincess Feb 2018
America, land of milk and  honey or so they say
Except an organization named Feeding America says
America has millions of children going hungry
And sometimes their only meal comes from school
And  though sadly true, it's a huge crying shame
When some grocery conglimerates are discarding
perfectly good nourishment in their dumpsters
Yet, we look the other way and then wonder
Why so much hunger in a land of plenty?
ashley lingy Jan 2018
the sign clearly displayed

the light on

and here we are

you and I

you with 25 items

I with 6

you in front of me

writing a check

if ****** were legal

oh, if only
dove Jan 2018
aisle upon aisle
looking just for a few groceries
then it hits me
graham crackers
your favorite.
i grab a box,
leave all of my other items
in my cart,
and check out.
i drove to the lake
and fed every last *******
to those annoying birds
you always hated.
JR Rhine Jun 2017
It’s strange to be
nostalgic about a
grocery store. But
there it is.

In the lobby were
quarter machines. In
exchange for coins I’d
dig from couch cushions
and mom from the bowels
of her purse,

I’d watch colorful gumballs
spiral down a slide and
tumble through the open hatch
into my awaiting palm,
and another with wax figures
which I collected.

Inside to the left
past the magic sliding
glass doors was a DVD
rental section. Rows and rows
of movies I’d peruse
looking for something to watch
on a school night.

Across from that were
the magazine and
candy aisles with
various furniture—tables and
couches and chairs and sofas—
spread out
in the middle. I would

read skateboard magazines
beating my short legs against
the static incline of a sofa
chair and
one time a lady watched me
placidly reading on a comfy chair
from the security cam
and thought I was reading
something pornographic
and told my mom at the
register.

At the register,
mom would let me get
Archie comics and
bubble gum—

One time when I was five
I stole a pack of Fruit Stripe
gum. In the mini-van I
revealed my sin to mom
and she had me (alone)
walk back into the store
and hand it back to the cashier,
apologizing for my grand
theft.

When my dad would
take me to the grocery store
he would like to play
games.

He once took an egg
out of the carton
and tossed it to me
down the aisle. Too
scared to catch, I let
it fall to my feet with
a wet crack spilling
egg all over the gleaming
porcelain.

He grabbed soda bottles
and junk food from the shelves
and consumed them
then and there, handing
the cashier the empty
containers.

There was a coffee shop
inside the grocery store
he would stop by every
morning. Some Saturdays
he would wrench me from my
cartoons and take me with him
and I would play the 25 cent
slot machines while he got his
venti mocha latte.

Once I had a
nightmare I walked
into the parking lot
and couldn’t find my
dad. I called and called
for him but couldn’t find
him anywhere. Suddenly
his voice boomed at me
from the clouds.

In a thunderous yet
soothing voice of one who
has passed on to nirvana,
he said I would be okay, and
to take care of my mother
and my little brother and
sister. I cried and cried
out to him, searching for
his earthly body in the
grocery store parking lot.

I woke up in my parents’ waterbed
choking on my tears;
dad ran out of the bathroom mid-
shave to his side of the bed where
I slept and I threw my arms around his
neck.

Years,
and a decade later,
I drove my fiancé through
the old town I was raised in
and told her stories of the
pawn shop,
gas station,
video rental,
Mexican restaurant,
and grocery store.

With the video rental
now a tire station,
and the mom and pops
in chains,
we drove by the old grocery store
standing tall and proud
still as colossal as I remembered.

As the memories flowed
from my heart to my lungs
babbling from the driver’s seat,
that old grocery store
I gave my time and quarters to
carried a greater weight
than I ever thought
grocery shopping on Saturday mornings
and Sunday afternoons
could ever have.
Next page