Thursday, 4 September 2008

The Last Checkout

The queue went on for miles.
Children did somersaults

over the trolleys,
or kept asking questions:

Are we nearly there yet?

Are we nearly there yet?


Young couples started
to argue with each other.

Old couples
complained about the service.

Fishfingers
started to melt,
and drip onto the floor.


And when you finally got there,

the sign said

YOU CAN'T TAKE ANYTHING WITH YOU.

You start and finish
with an empty trolley.

So true.

Many people
ignored the sign. Some,
weighed down by shopping bags

full of frozen pizza,
sank without trace

into the brown, oozing lino.

Others made it to the door,

only to fall to earth
as they stepped out

onto the clouds.


A few people said so what

you can keep the lot,

and walked on
to the stars.


5 comments:

The Weaver of Grass said...

This is one of my favourites amongst your poems.

dick said...

Life as a supermarket queue! Great stuff, Dominic.

Dominic Rivron said...

Thanks for these comments. As you probably gather, supermarkets make me a bit edgy!

Jock said...

This reminds me of shopping in T*sc* in Poland. More please!

Dominic Rivron said...

Thanks for this. I didn't know there were T*sc*s in Poland. I'll try to keep them coming!