Retail! Pt. II

I’m only twenty-nine; but been a counter jockey for some time. Yeah, what you do for a living, gorgeous? Been waiting on my call from self-importance,
but that
courtship has run
its course.

Changing the world a quart of milk at a time, opposed by single mothers tapping their feet at the back of my line, just trying to save themselves a couple dimes.

“What kind of establishment are you running here, anyway?”

I’ll give you a hint. Another sinking ship in the grand economy, manned by a bottom-feeder demographic, and like kids who’ve found an ant colony, the galoshes are stepping down. I can’t be a racist, sir, because I hate all of you indiscriminately. Now are you buying that flat screen or not, because the girl behind you is hotter and I’d like to get around to serving her.

Who knows,
she might be
worth the hello,
good fellow, so
save me your
materialistic
prose
and together,
she and I can blow
off work, spinning
one-eighty turns in
the parking lot
forever.

God, I hope this is
the day
they parade me past
the door,
walking papers worth
more than the
shallow
drivel
middlemen have made
their muse.

I’m twelve months shy of thirty, and already shirking my pension if it rids me of this shoulder tension and ridiculous questions from forty-something shrews.

You have to understand,
I’ve got nothing
to lose without
the approval of
strangers.

I’ve won the grand prize
of spending my life
bowing down

to you.

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