The Stock Boy


Silent Gene is on the prowl,
looking for those pesky shoplifters.
While I go through the shelves,
making the goods look pretty.
Only to have to them destroyed the following day,
by little old ladies,
ever searching for that elusive peanut brittle.

On to the milk, eggs, and bread,
three items that also get ravaged,
by those certain shoppers,
who think the world ends,
when an inch of snow falls to the Earth.

Closing time is like a beacon in the dark,
for those late shoppers,
with their dirty faced kids.
Pre-longing my working hours,
waiting for the clock to strike ten o'clock

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