brilliant, headache-inducing light,
piercing my retinas
until they disintegrate, are no more
than piles of ash on the floor at my flailing feet.
Words and pictures,
boxes, packets, cartons, bottles,
clothed in all the colours of the rainbow
– if a rainbow were acid yellow, puce and lime green.
I can hear the groaning
as shelves bow under the weight of all the produce
that we simply must buy
otherwise our lives are meaningless, somehow.
I hover in the doorway as the glass partitions slide
back and forth
moved by invisible hands.
The devil’s work.
Get me out of this hell (that others call a supermarket)
I want to go home.
I’m a little late to the party, after a heavy day yesterday, when all I wanted to do was put my feet up and drink coffee. Yesterday was Poetics night over at dVerse, where our genial host, Walt, invited us to write on ‘too much’ drought, deluge, literal or metaphorical.
Anyone who knows me, knows I hate supermarkets these days. All that ‘stuff’ piled high, all those ‘special offers’ all that price-matching and BOGOF’ offers. Ugh, it drives me to distraction. I find it utterly overwhelming and I have no patience for it. A deluge of consumerism at its worst.
What kind of drought or deluge have you in your life? Why not share it with the dVerse community – or just hop on over for a good old read?