∼ Shopping in Three Acts

You’ve pushed a shopping cart
along familiar aisles hundreds of times. 
Consulted your market list or left it at home. 
No major decisions required, nonfat or low, 
red or green grapes, pintos or kidneys,
then head for the shortest checkout line. 
This morning it’s one with a posted sign.

1.
Raised voices come from the check stand.
A man is waving a credit card.
I chafe at lack of progress, shift feet,
exchange impatient sighs,
say loud enough to be heard—
“The sign is clear. You’re keeping us all waiting.”
He turns, red-faced, glaring.
A manager intervenes, leads him to another register. 
The line moves. It’s my turn.

2.
Groceries bagged, register closed—
and suddenly he’s beside me,
the rough fabric of his coat against my arm.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Don’t touch you?” and slaps my arm.
Calls me old woman. Slaps again.
“Mind your own business, old woman.” Slap!
I know that any word or movement
will incite, invite more.
He turns, heads for the door.
“Are you all right?” “Did you see that?” “Must be crazy.” 
A manager walks me to my car.

3.
Doors locked. Seat belt buckled.
I look nervously around.
Take deep breaths to ease tension in my chest. 
Check to be sure no car is following.
          Be more careful!
          You don’t know what’s out there— 
          something much larger.
          Keep your big mouth shut!