Sizing up the couple in front of me in the checkout line,
their basket piled high with junk
I’d sooner die than buy.
Don’t they care about the consequences
of their reckless consumerism?
She offers
with a smile and wave of her hand
to go ahead of them,
being there were so few items in my cart,
presumably oblivious to the arrogance
I’d tucked beneath my locally-grown lettuce
and organic tofu.
When did we become these states of US and them?
where friendliness hinges on where you stand or bend,
which borders you are willing to cross or close,
whether hand or fist you will extend while proclaiming
“Live free or die!”
I worry what unregulated weapon lurks
beneath your pile of artificial snacks.
I wonder, If you knew I am so woke
as to afford everyone the right to live free,
no matter their race, or gender, or sexual proclivity,
or even if they fill their cart,
with climate-changing crap in disturbing quantities…
would you still be so courteous to me?
Would you regret being so neighborly,
if you realized our votes will cancel each other out.
I confess it has come to this,
and I’m not proud of it,
that I am wary of the kindness of strangers
based on the content of their shopping cart
when I should suggest instead
we share a cuppa and a respectful conversation
about what it means to live free.
