I guess that’s why they call it
the blues, piped into the grocery

store, a slow-up at the checkstand,
I’ll miss my bus for sure. Oh Elton,

I don’t really care, wandering the aisles
and looking at cereal. The passage

of people makes a place feel lonely,
grocery stores and airports, especially

at odd hours. The linoleum seems sad.
I wish it didn’t — but it’s things like this

that write the songs, not just failed
romances but weeks of standing

in produce sections looking at
tomatoes that all look the same.