Another noon day Friday at Walmart.
Five hour hiatus wait for the boys.
Stretched out Minuets,
Stressed out heart,
Stroll around and play with the toys.
Maybe jump on a new bike,
And ride around like a dork.
Associates eagle eye staring at me,
As if he’d stab me with a fork.
Guess I’ll do what all men do,
Go to hardware instead.
Cordless drill all pretty and new,
And a flashlight in the shape,
Of a hammerhead.
In a nearby Isle I hear dying,
Child screaming for want of buying.
Parents nerves, there a frying.
I’m out, hasta,
Strolling swagger down,
to automotive town,
Pick up some oil and a filter.
Cart sounds like locomotive growl,
Off to get some glitter.
Gallon of milk on my way,
to the paper plates and towels.
Oh my gosh what’s that you say,
A spill in isle twelve?
Moving on to care of lawn,
For a roll of weed eater string.
Rake and shovel, garden wand,
Then down to jewelry for some bling.
Loaf of bread but all is gone,
Must be a storm on its way.
At the front to have your nails done,
And I’ll get a haircut,
What do you say?
A pair of shoes
And holiday candy
Elvis sings the blues
A workout for your fanny.
Five hundred lanes
Only ten being open
On the first and fifteenth
Man you must be jokin
So I search and find
A quicker way out of this grind
A self-checkout line
About to check out and I’m doing fine
Discard that last line
The, find a line rhyme
Wishing I could turbocharge this line time
Do cats really have lives times nine
Oh well back to losing my fried mind
So I swishy swipe
My super Swiffer wipe
Across twenty red laser lights
Which sends off an error message and turns on a Beacon light
I just might get in a fight tonight
Okay deep breath
Here comes another associate
She heads my way and then disappears
Shows up out of nowhere
I have no idea where she went
Clears the code
I pay and off I go
To my car where sanity abodes
Oh wait one more scene in this show
As I make my way for the exit
Marked very clearly above the door
Someone obviously illiterate
Enters through the exit into the store
Finally car sweet car
Wherefore hath thou been sweet car
Plop down inside
Rub tired eyes
With deep sighs
I shrug off my cries
And at last to Walmart I bid
© Billy Charles Root
Excerpt from the book “Pressing On”
About the Author
My name is Billy Charles Root. I was born October 21, 1975, in San Bernardino California and was for the most part raised by my father In Rialto and Apple Valley California. In 1995 I moved to Oklahoma where my wife Tina and I have nine children combined and 3 grandchildren. I have been a professional automotive technician for twenty years now and I still am for the United States postal service.
Visit Billy’s Author Page At:www.ctupublishinggroup.com/billy-charles-root.html