A second poem in the city series (Summer Night is the other one) |
“damn!” I trade the crippled cart for one with wheels that will glide even when the carriage bulges with meats: ground beef, pork, skinless chicken breasts, lamb chops, bacon and sausage; cheese: feta and cheddar, low-fat swiss: vegetables: lettuce, tomatoes, cabbage and carrots, potatoes, squash and turnip, green peppers, onion, parsley fruit: apples, oranges, melons and grapes cartons of crackers three kinds of soup milk and juice and butter two dozen eggs and bagels and fresh baked bread; a case of pop; tortilla chips, with salsa, diet pop, more chips, toilet paper and kleenex, a treat for the kids; and a magazine for me and snacks (too many snacks) until I think even these wheels will forget to turn silently and obediently as they carry my loot through the cash Later, as I turn a corner on St. George I hear them: the wheels limping noisily, anxiously over bumps and cracks in the sidewalk. Fast they go, as Leo (eveyone knows him) pushes the cart hurriedly, head down, trying not to be seen transporting two well rumpled garbage bags holding everything he hopes he owns |