I switched the engine off and sat and watched
Across the raindrop pearled roofs of cars at the door
Of the supermarket as that fat woman with four kids
Emerged laden with bags.
Frowning face and sour grimace determined
With a copy of the Sun folded under her arm.
Knowing it all and knowing nothing at all.
But determinedly so.
Switching my car to quiet I opened the door and walked
Towards her and sought some kind of small smiling connection
But she looked through me to some trial beyond
And I stayed my way towards the groceries.
Baked beans, bread, pasta, some cake or other.
Then the checkout with the others in line.
Some boy who’d left school too soon
Watching the rain dribble down the pane
As the goods went through. And the woman behind
Scanned my buys and drew a picture of me.
And looked away quietly.
Then the walk back through the puddles,
And the relief of closing the car door on it all
And driving away hopeful of something better,
But drawing nearer to my empty home.