Alone In A Supermarket

I’ve run out of food
I guess I really should
go to tesco, I’m hesto
with carrots crisps and pesto

I need my fix of booze
my loyalty to spoons
is like a dog, you’d think that they’d’ve thought
to recall the beer student that they taught

Or maybe recognise my eyes,
or the way I always try to
be first name basis with the faceless,
barmaid with the braces

My stomach tells me im peckish
I’ll have to find a Pret its,
not very hard, one wont be far
they tell me their production lines an art

Part satisfied, part mystified
I find myself alone
on a highstreet, watching feet
of people I don’t know

And I guess that really shows
the lonely ebb and flow
of modern day consumption, its like a punch man
that knocks one of his toes

I’ve never felt more distant,
than when receiving assistance,
from worker 4 in a large shop
who couldn’t care less about her job

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