People walk silently
Along the well-lit isles
In a crowded supermarket,
Chatting on cell phones,
Picking up sexy items from
Shelves groaning with
Various products well-packaged,
And neatly labeled;
Each one
Shrinking from the other;
Waiting in the long Queues,
Trolleys stuffed with assorted goods,
Groceries, fruits, veggies, toothpastes and brushes
All poured into the cavernous belly of the trolley by
Hungry hands groping the backs of the
Branded products, slim or fat, all
To be loaded onto the idling cars outside
By the families aroused by the displayed items
On open long shelves,
All the guys
---And I see Allen Ginsberg, bespectacled, bearded and fierce among the silent shoppers for a second and then his unkempt figure disappears in the Sunday-evening crowds milling everywhere---
Waiting quietly before the till
And a grim dumb cashier
That never smiles;
II
Down the riverside,
A frail woman sells the ladyfingers
Green and fresh
Kissed by the breeze from the placid river,
A man climbs down and asks,
How much, dear aunt, is the ladyfinger?
She quotes,
He haggles,
The woman says finally,
Smiling, her face veined,
Take it son, at your price
It is closing time,
And I have a long way
To my village home.
