I’m on my fifth trip today
down the cereal aisle.
I have come to realize that
in the USA, every man, woman
and child manufactures cereal
and sells through my grocery.
I turn my cart around and go
back to begin my search again.
It appears I am now lost in the
Bermuda Triangle of the store.
A grocery clerk asks if there is
anything he can do to help.
I reply, “Pray.” He laughs a sly
laugh and disappears, never to
be heard from anywhere again.
Concerned that this is loitering,
I grab anything and make a
triumphant giddy dash for the
tomato paste. Now that I’m back
on terra firma, it appears the
writing on my cereal box of least
resistance is hieroglyphics. But
I’m wagering it’s cereal and believe
I’m on a roll! Angels sing!