Shopping

Groceries again, it’s as if

We were feeding an army,

A very hungry army eating

Its way through the world,

Devouring anything that 

Gets in its way; countries

Whole continents, groups

And gangs, drinking down 

Gallons of lakes and rivers, 

Even an ocean if it gets in

The way. There’s no truce in

This or a peace conference.

This must be that forever war

We all knew was coming,

Champing at its bit, waiting

For our return from the store

With provisions, its weapons

And ammunition. Bonaparte

Knew armies marched on their

Stomachs and left us to pick

Up the pieces, fill the fridge

And pantry and wait for it to

All begin, waiting for pullets

To fly.