Wednesday, 2 February 2011

Fennel

I've run out of fennel,
The supermarket queue is exhausting
My basket in browsers' way
Lined up along the aisle
Staring sharply at pink-boxed powder
Blue plastic bottles of softener
The beige jacket of the man ahead.

I lean sideways to see the front.
There isn't a smile,
Scan, bag, scan, bag.
She could go faster.

I'm bashed by a trolley and turn around
A baby screams, but I don't care.
I just spotted an old friend,
The fennel I forgot again.

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