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THE SUPERMARKET

Script By: moonphish
Poetry


for patty


Submitted:Jan 15, 2012    Reads: 74    Comments: 4    Likes: 3   


yes, i work in a supermarket
but its not so super
the hours bend my legs and arms
and leave me in a stupor
the jerks that run the place
will, of my time, take full advantage
they wring the life and blood from me
the way they micromanage
but yet i must be friendly
and just break out in a smile
when some moronic customer
can't find a certain aisle
my hands are dry as desert air
as through them, cash must pass
and the paper in the grocery bags
are made from ground up glass
but still i make a living
so i guess i shouldn't brood
some folks may give up luxuries
but all of us need food





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