The Cruddy Supermarket

O Pioneer! Hellish emporium!—
where carts jostle in narrow aisles
made narrower by tipping carton-cliffs,
where half the stock is out of reach
and milk sours
and ice cream melts
and sundry cheesy cheeses bloom with mold.
Sharp tissue boxes, falling from above,
have cut my brow
and greasy spills have fouled my favorite shoes.
You have shortchanged me!
Your discourteous chattering checkers have deranged me!
The stink of catbox reeking from below
is the true essence of your fell concern.

I denounce you and I condemn you!
May your suppliers go on strike and your bank withhold credit.
May vandals break your windows and shoplifters plunder your shelves.
May every bill in your registers turn counterfeit.
And one day soon
may your three neglected cats pad up from the cellar,
arch their backs,
yowl like banshees
and spray odiferous urine on your manager’s lunch.