Complicated Reality

It's half past dark, most folks have gone home,

I wander through the grocery store, just barely not alone.

I recognize the brands I prefer to have in stock

and the laid-back eyes of the workers on the clock.

Aisle after aisle, I gotta say I love the mood,

no messy lines of people, just neatly ordered lines of food.

Steer around a palette stacked with every kind of cereal,

footsteps echo on the tile, gentle and ethereal.

Picking through the produce, cabbages and beets,

no one standing next to me, judging what I eat.

Just a clerk, looking like he's maybe seventeen,

with lots of froze waffles, and some bags of green beans.

I don't find it creepy, I kinda like the peace.

Night-time lighting while I grab my groceries.

Ring a bell for service when I want to get rung up.

The clerk says "Just a moment." I flash a thumbs up.

Page through a magazine, debate over a candy bar.

Would it make it home, or become a wrapper in my car?

I'm not in a hurry, I don't mind a little wait,

cause shopping is more chill when you get it done late.