In aisle by weary, lonely aisle
I hesitate to flash a smile
Or dare more than a cautious glance
A stance of isolated style
One time in Produce, once in Snacks
We struggle to ignore the facts:
Amidst the billions, you and I
Imply a couple, built of wax
Already mutually-known
Conspirators, us two, alone
You bought my brand of paper towels!
It howls in chordant duo-tone!
Yet, in our queues, stood side-by-side
They scan, we pay; we move, they guide
In parallel, and not to cross
A loss, from our peculiar pride
Against this fate, I lamely strive:
What make and model do you drive?
A glance will do, and bring to end
A friend my custom can’t survive
I venture one last whisper, uttered secretly:
“Thank you for being supermarket friends with me.”
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