Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Aisle No. 9

Rushing through your aisle

Between detergents and stationary

I brushed past your smile

What nonsense? I thought



At the cash counter

While I stood in line

Tapping my fingers

Impatience

Meeting starts in nine



Please go ahead

Its my day off you said

An offer hard to resist

On a day like this



Name. Number. Saved.



Tapping my fingers

Yet again

Drowning out the humdrum

He's a corporate guru

But where is the soul?



While he picked up the cheque

I cringed each time

Just let me pay my dues

Owing coins is unfair



New message. Type. Send

You

I'll be at the aisle

Past post-its

At eleven

Remember to check in

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