OK, so ridiculous things always seem to happen to me. Things that leave me asking myself, "Am I taking crazy pills or what is the deal here?" Here is a poem about one such absurdity that happened quite awhile ago.
When,
in the Sioux City Super Wal-Mart,
a pack of slouchy, angsty teenagers
threw a greasy box of condoms
(Magnums, size large)
into my already overflowing cart,
and then giggling,
scattered like ants,
I wanted to yell something clever:
"I was going to get these anyway!"
(I haven't bought a condom in years)
or
"My man needs extra large!"
(I don't have a man)
or
"Shouldn't you hooligans be in juvey?"
(When did I get so old)
It took me 2o minutes
to find the Health and Beauty section
and
another 20 mintues to find
the condom aisle.
In Sioux City, stockers stock
condoms next to deodorant.
I, for one, am grateful for this decision.
At least now I know,
chances are
that in Sioux City,
good-smelling people
are having protected sex.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment