ABOUT THE BOOK
We Mad Climb Shaky Ladders
Pamela Spiro Wagner
6 x 9.5
Poem in Which Paranoia Strikes at the Grocery Store
You would choose a cart with wheels
that squeak. Your clothes are much too colorful.
The noise your clogs make
announces you with each step. Who
gave you permission to enter? No one
wants you here. They are all watching.
It is important to know
if you will splurge
on the expensive foreign grapes
or go with cheap bananas.
Behind you, watch out. She conceals herself well
but you sense her there when you turn around.
Sound floods your ears, rising like water.
You push ahead. Quick, next aisle.
A cart left crosswise!—Who?
Why? No way around.
No thought but flight.
You crash through the barricade,
race for Dairy—
She stays just one aisle behind.
If this were a poem
a lot of things could happen.
But the poem went home a long time ago.
It will not help you.
You are in the grocery store.
You believe you are being followed.
You are on your own.