Shopping in a shed.



A bad trip dream land,
that will cart you of for stealing a sweet,
then robs you at the till,
with a dodgy bill.

The local undertaker shops,
looking at the old as future trade,
white liquid in plastic bottles,
what happened to the milk maid?

Another offer for bored consumers,
crackles indifferently on the naff tannoy,
so much stuff,
so little love
and the manager dressed like a 1950's Christian zealot.

Their is nothing you want from us,
but silent obedience and money,
the big issue seller does a roaring trade,
in the middle class village,
blessing us as we put money on his plate.

I saw smoke coming out of the back room once,
I shouldn't have told them,
created a future for a family greengrocer,
a butcher who knows your name
and lets you pay next week.

~