At Walmart, oh what I’ve seen:
Hitler in the fruit
section studying obsequiously grapes
fallen from the bunch

The Buddha with his eyes closed,
having wandered inside incidentally,
feeling always the spray of the
timed mists

A Prince stumbling into the furniture and
inspecting lazily all the frozen foods -
he shakes his head regardless

You by the meat and combs
You by the greeting cards and stationary
You by the baby’s clothes

I am simply, one can observe,
carted around by my mother while
I contemplate the cigarettes and the vodka,
scribble in a notebook and ogle pretty
women

Those timid souls of the world stay far
from Walmart, bittersweet
tender souls