24 Hour Superstore Poem by Charlie Parant

aisles and aisles of nothing
stacked eight feet high
and going on for miles
a line of goods coming in the back door
stretching all the way back to China
she walks down every row
looking at lawn chairs and baby clothes,
digital cameras and Cheerios,
socket wrenches and frozen yogurt,
riding lawnmowers and strapless bras,
picture frames and tampons,
pot roasts and sleeping bags,
but she never finds what she needs
she never finds love
she can’t buy confidence
she won’t discover hope
she can’t acquire happiness
so, like all the other people
who are walking the aisles
at this time of night,
she shops