it seems like they are dwindling
more straggly the shedding throngs seem to be
the surviving elderly infantry that funnel themselves inside the supermarkets
the most committed of whom often hold silent arguments with price labels
strained arguments pleading arguments
resigned arguments that the blowing synthetic baked-bread air
wishes away to the wider nowhere..
many for the price of none gratis
such one-sided debates echo
around and within these hollowed-out immersive installation-art showrooms
the weimar kingdom catharsis all the bat sonar signals crazy golf
though we are told that last year we avoided even a shallow technical recession
and this financial year we will also avoid another
good news on good news
so why all this angst..
marching through himself in glitching freeze frames
stepping off the bus he walks to the electronic front doors
the same lady who is always there
and always perched on her plastic stool outside selling her magazine..
he respectfully nods at her
she warmly smiles at him
then he circumnavigates more pressing concerns
as he stiltedly walks beside himself inside..
as the glass doors swish shut behind him
and the speaker system blares out loops of the endless
all their shrill notices and slogans amped
he feels like he is drowning
he is hearing everything underwater
his already trenched mind drowns stuffed more with mud
as he becomes utterly locked and blocked inside himself..
so how many decades has he been shopping at this supermarket
do the cameras now even pay him any mind
zoom..click..nah..
and he feels like sobbing again with the dull shock of it all
for everything that he once believed in it seems has come to this..
being responsible
careful budgeting
deferred gratification
knowing the difference between right and wrong
and living by good values and good deeds..
much of that just trampled on
and so cruelly so mundanely so anonymously
and so easily peeled back like a cheap plastic sheet of imitation oak veneer
that it is not
in this weimar kingdom money just cannot stretch that far now
thus in the deep subterranean catacombs
now party hard the gilded termites to the sky
to the sky..
so here we are
so here we are
he has fifteen pounds but he needs at least twenty
he takes a basket for the items he can pay for
he has a small unobtrusive plastic bag for the rest
he trembles along the aisles with his essential items list
a few items that are asterisked are the ones he will try to..
triggered when he hears the exit door alarming
he straightens up like a switched on toy doll
its shrill trilling pulls him up so..
a tunnel-visioned woman is stopped in mid-gallop
she is quickly pulled aside
she is asked to open her bag
she puts up a faux animated protest almost for the sake of it
she is offered options for the choice..
he reminds himself that he has already done this exercise once before
the last time was his first time and less than a fortnight ago..
that time he synced his escape with a gaggle of slowly exiting teenagers
and when the alarms sirened that time
he was let through without the second glance
once outside he gingerly step-ran
though relieved about the successful execution of the plan
it still took a while for his ticker to slow down
but how many times can he get away with that
and he felt bad for those teenagers
and while reflecting he found himself
having to choke back sobs on that bus ride home..
he still feels stark shame about that
he stands stock-still in the aisle
he stares down again at his essential items list
he glances to the exit door assessing
he is frozen in the aisle stock-still
he asks himself whether he is able to steel himself
steel himself to do it again
those essential items asterisked
one more time
one more time..
