by Jean L. Kreiling

I want to shout that I’m not one of these
maniacal too-anxious shoppers, here
for bread and milk and eggs—necessities
they crave whenever a nor’easter’s near.
They seem to think the storm will last forever,
or else the thought of one day with no bread
alarms them, and not one of them is clever
enough to plan more than one day ahead.
I hold my tongue, though; after all, I’m in
the store with them, crowding the narrow aisles,
subjected to the jostling and the din,
soon on a checkout line that goes for miles.
And I myself don’t look so very smart:
fudge brownie mix and cookies fill my cart.