-the shopping cart inquirer-

once, there were two plungers in the house.
today, one is missing.
the other one has never been any good.
it begins by plunging acceptably,
but during the release, the rubber continues
to fold into itself causing a wet mess.

so it’s off to “SmartRite Super Store” for two plungers.

the toilet downstairs has always been a problem.

It’s a weak flush, is what it is.

It’s busy at the “SRSS” this morning.

but the plunger department is easy to find

with a nice presentation and a good selection.

I’ve noticed that most are fitted

with long yellow handles.

handles such as these used to be something of importance to me;

sawed from its rubber bell, the yellow stick makes a fine-
looking stickball bat.

but my stickball days are far behind me.

here’s a shopping hint: always pick the plungers

toward the back of the row.

nobody’s manhandled those babies!

I have pride in my selection of two

outstanding plungers, one fixed with a semi-gloss black rubber,
the other fixed with a muted red rubber, a sort-of oxblood color,
a nice terra-cotta look to it.
there'll be no more mix-ups between the upstairs
toilet and the downstairs toilet.
I think the muted red will be best downstairs.

there's no need for a shopping cart.

but even the speedy "12 Items Or Less"

register aisle is long and slow-moving.

what’s this?

two carts toward the register, a woman

appears to have more than 12 items.

looks like she’s trying to pull a fast one

by hiding a bunch of stuff under a coat in her cart.

I may be a poet of ill-repute, but I can spot subterfuge

from the end of a long line with the best of them.

they’ll nab her at the register.

there’s the coat.

there’s another sleeve of something else.

there’s a blister-pack of D-cell batteries.

I’m spotting many different colors
of cloth and blister packs edging their way
from beneath the coat’s parameters.

a rough count already has it at eleven items.
she's at the edge of compliance.

wait a minute!
that's her coat inside the cart!

It's all so obvious now.
she took it off to walk around the “SmartRite”

to be free of its winter’s weight.

she puts the coat on at the register, one sleeve at a time
like any normal "SmartRite" customer.

“this is mine” she tells the harried, blue-vested young woman

tapping keys for a living in order to reach an ending, which,
by-the-way, is also what I do everyday.