Consuming Passion
She sits, all trainee smiles and puppy-fat,
Checking the goods, that pass before her eyes,
A pack of biscuits, something for the cat
And trolleys Everested with supplies.
She talks of music as the scanner squeaks,
The endless belt glides forward like a swan.
I listen when my bar-code beauty speaks:
“Don't take the mickey - Mahler turns me on.”
She checks my money, puts it in the till –
Take what you will, but be prepared to pay –
Concern is not included in the bill.
We do not talk of famine far away.
The world and I have left it somewhat late,
And we are both beyond our sell-by date.
Roger Woddis
The Times Saturday Review, July (?), 1992
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