Grocery store aisle

I’m tired

Of waiting more, and then some more. And then some more.

Of walking to the store where
there isn’t floss on the shelves—
Of training myself to be ready
for the moment it appears—
Of walking in hope on a bitter-chill
Sunday to scour the aisles—
Wondering where it’s gone—
Is it gone? Where did it go?
Did I miss it between the candles
and the soap and the cheese?
Should I wait hurriedly
some more and then some more
and then some more—?

I’m tired of thinking it’s coming
Some far-flung day when I’ll be lucky—
I’m tired of smiling in checkered grins
Because the coming is all I have hope for.

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