How blessed I am, for in my town,
No matter which street I drive down,
There’ll always be a grocery store,
Complete with all my needs and more.
A family of boys, times four,
Is always hollow to the core.
My shopping cart will overflow
With piles of food, so they can grow.
My strategy is first, to go
Down every aisle, very slow,
To locate things that made my list,
And look for those I might have missed.
Sometimes I have to bend and twist
To find the deals clutched in my fist.
Those coupons promise huge discounts
If I match sizes and amounts.
The manager just might announce
Some super deals; on these, I’ll pounce.
Old fav’rites or something brand new,
Soon scarfed down by my hungry crew.
I’ve picked up bacon, chili, stew,
Milk, eggs, juice, bread, plums and a few
Large cans of tuna, ice cream, beans,
Some mayonnaise, and lots of greens,
Steak, hamburger, both extra lean,
Sauce, noodles, crackers, nectarines,
PB&J, lunchmeat, and cheese,
And donuts (boys always say please).
My grocery cart once moved with ease,
But now my load has made it seize.
The checkout line is far away;
I’ll muscle it; it’s time to pay.
But as I watch in great dismay,
I’m startled by a great array
Of shoppers surging to the line,
Until it twines just like a vine.
What can I do? I must resign
Myself to waiting, I won’t whine.
‘cause it would have to take an hour
Before my milk and lunchmeat sour.
Now comes the test of my will-power –
Resist temptation, or devour
The empty calories that call
My name, from shelves on this short wall?
My progress feels more like a crawl,
But then, it’s time to move my haul
Right up to the conveyer belt
And find out – did my ice cream melt?
The cashier scanned, but then she dealt
With glitches that I think I felt.
“The tape is out.” “This box won’t read.”
“I don’t know why your check won’t feed.”
About that time I thought I’d need
To plead for mercy, yes, indeed.
Receipt in hand, she shook her head,
Said “Have a good day,” then I fled.
This job is one I always dread
For now, though, we’ll have quite a spread.
That store makes me feel old and worn,
I’m weak, just like I’m newly born.
When I get home, I’ll honk the horn.
Four mini-men complete this chore.
How blessed I am, God gave me boys.
The lure of food makes them deploy,
But teamwork, they do not employ.
In spite of that, they bring me joy,
Yes, even though they’ll still repeat,
“How come there’s nothing good to eat?”
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