I met my current local literary mentor
Guru
Adversary
In the Giant Supermarket
For the second week in a row.
What are the chances?
We never meet
Except for our monthly readings.
We grabbed shiny chrome carts
At the same time
In the giant Giant vestibule.
“How’s it going? This is becoming a habit.”
I said.
“You look better than when I last saw you.”
Was his reply.
True.
But unnerving.
In my mind I looked pretty good the last time.
Better even.
I wheeled my cart
Into the flourescent belly of the beast.
“Watcha say we fill our carts and meet in aisle 7 in fifteen minutes and play chicken?”
“You’re on” he said smirking.
Five minutes went by.
He finds me in aisle 3
Telling me that he thought
The supermarket was the greatest place to look at women.
“Everywhere is a great place to look at women.”
I told him.
What I said was truth.
But what he told me
Was also.
The supermarket was a great place
To look at women.
So I really wanted to meet him
In aisle 7
And play chicken
With our full carts
Smashing
Spilling produce
Dry goods
Potato Chips
Cellophane wrapped meats
Toilet paper
Pet food
Baked goods
Everywhere.
The crazy thing
Is that in another time
Like twenty years ago...
I’m sure we would’ve both done it.
We would’ve ran full steam
At each other
Alcohol on our breath.
Locomotive.
11:00 o’clock at night.
Commited.
Smashing in a great steel metallic thunder
Groceries spilling everywhere
With us laughing
Histerically
In aisle 7
Carts on their side
Us on the polished floor
Not even giving it a thought
As the night manager kicked us out
While we licked our surface wounds
Telling us to never come back again.
“Fuck you!”
“We’ll take our business elsewhere!”
We both yell at him
Hysterical.
Instead...
I caught him.
Literary guy
Out of the corner of my eye
In aisle 6
His cart idle
While he perused current cheap gossip magazines
No doubt looking at women...
And I proceeded
To the
All too familiar
Altar
Of the
Self-Checkout line
Knowing that the aisle 7
Chicken-dare crash
Wasn’t going to happen.
Once more checking out
With a debit card
To the elder
More mature
More responsible
Life
That I now existed in.
In a perfect karma
I would hear the words
Announced over the speakers...
“Clean up in aisle 7!”
Before we were put out on the curb.
