Texty: Meryn Cadell. Bombazine. Super.

When I want to go inside, the door swings open
The music starts up and a cool breeze guides me to my carriage
To maneuver through this place
None of my excitement showing in my face
Moving with the other creatures,
tossing with a steady hand our sustenance
into silver grid cold carts.
The air hangs thick with smells of vegetables,
freshly ground coffee
and desire
There?s some roller derby action over there
where they?re giving out free samples,
but I steer clear.
I?m not here
looking for some wedding ring
I just want to sing under my breath
and try on different soups and spices like clothing;
the day spread out before my like possibility, and joy
I turn down the aisle like a hospital corridor
silver and white floating up on both sides
the frozen food section
And my skin stands up under my clothes,
just for me, don?t even look at me
I am so thrilled to be alone,
here in my body
with a little purse loaded with cash
and carefully clipped coupons.
I can save.
It can save me.
I feel my self and life propelled forward
despite these damn carts which always try to derail you,
one wheel going in circles while the rest of you tries to go forward.
Four people are over there by the bread,
arcing around each other in a hopeless vortex
as a string arrangement of ?I Am a Woman in Love?
serenades their quiet dance.
I manage to avoid these social swirls and just get what I need
And when I get to the check-out, I charge it