…These long lines, I have no patience.
The slow steady beeps of the cash register
Understaffed, they close the long line.
The angry customers migrate mercurially.
They mob the next aisle over, an aimless blob
Floating along with the flow, ending up wherever
I didn’t want that gallon of milk that badly and yet,
I stayed in line for over fifteen minutes, maybe more
The comfort of staying in line beats returning my things
And I would regret wasting all that effort on giving up;
the only thing I hate more than wasting my time.
Finally, the apologetic face of the cashier greets me,
As if to apologize like it was her fault.
No need, just keep the change, I’ll be on my way
Quite frankly it doesn’t matter what I think of her.
Who cares?- This exactly is why I have no patience…
I wrote this one a long time ago and revised it because I thought it was pretty lacking. I tried to capture a sort of persona; a person experiencing mundane things who cares more about what takes the least amount of effort rather than what people think of them/what they think of other people.
Poem 2: The Doubleness of Identity