beat nickle pickles are in aisle 8,please...



slickened curls of once dusty leaves slide in and about the cars in the parking lot at the grocery store, I crane my neck and peer into the oddly warm evening sky for a sign of Autumnal thunderstorms, harbingers of the changing winds, fierce sentinels wading through Persephone's last gaze towards what once was...I look around the painted blacktop circus graph to see if anyone else sees the odd air as a sign of something or is it just another day in the rat maze with reward relegation at the end of the scurry...I pick a cart already herded haphazardly in those plastic buffeted bins in the middle of the lot and lean into its roll, pushing through into the white light of consumerist driven need....by and buy what a pretty lie who cries for the old ways and days when everything is instant quick new improved hurried and moved short-lifed and shelved only to be re-packaged as some other genius incarnate says something old is new again and the bend from reality tightens abit as if a noose at the precipice of gravity....really I can't stand that I love grocery stores with all the colors and shapes and the easy way to approach a conversation without worrying about encroaching some taboo that you haven't been given the guideline for , afterall everyone eats and for the most part cleans and participates in the other sundry activities that place products for continuance upon  the shelves...aaah the grocery store, under its white light brigade spares no imperfection upon us however, humanity is nothing but irregular when compared to the pristine gleen of evocative coloration and packaging....most of my list tonight is driven by need though I save a few items to satisfy that selfish part of me that consumes at will and wants for the benefit of one...dainties and dandies musn't forget my candies or some other sweet that is horded in my pocket as if channeling the elder crow who lives in my dreams and wishes it had pockets to fill with its pick-its...I swear that smell-o-vision has been perfected by these monolithic cabals of consumerism but no proof exists except in theorized rants like these and who might listen to them anyhow besides those lucky or unlucky enough to have friended me on some social network...I always try to make the cashier smile on my way out as if it were a duty to uphold, why be somber when joyfulness is a disappearing sideshow nowadays...used to be bigtop show now its barely a blip...though there are dens and pools of utter joy that survive to this day and I find myself wanting and willing them to come closer as I push the cart through the automatic doors and whooosh I roll the cart across the lot under the yellow sodium sorrow of the anti-crime lights...noticing how many heads are faced down not at all craning their necks to see the low clouds speeding by and the warm air oiling the skin outside the shortsleeves....and I kiss this moment and hold it for a bit not knowing when another will come along...