Your Local Corona Grocery
We are the essential disposables
the wax-paper wrapped tight
around the week’s-wage salmon,
The rubber band cinched around the broccoli,
the kind people absently flick away,
and lose under the toaster.
You pack bags at the end of the line. It’s an honorable
job now- no cautionary tale. You’re a hero.
The cashier chats and types, you smile and pack,
Cold stuff together, eggs on top,
and for God’s sake remember
change your gloves after every reusable bag.
In the heart of the rush
at the busiest times,
you take your eyes off the clock
And blend with the song
and the belt and the fear
till things level out.
Then the cashier chats, you smile and bag. The song plays on,
through tinny speakers, with some discordant notes;
Suzie, from the meat department,
has missed a shift you know she needed-
it’s not like her.
You go on,
bagging, bagging,
packing and padding.
What strange heroes we are, to fight a million invisible foes
and twitch in terror at a sneeze.
