The grocery store is certainly no place
For human moments as we shop for beans
And milk and fruit and dog food. Let no face
Make an appearance in our field of view!
So seems the modus of my fellow man
As we peruse the aisles, as we look through
The wares from which to choose. Was this the plan?
That we lapse into middle-distance stares,
Our eyes glazed over; people now no more
Than obstacles to navigate? Who cares
That human life teems by the score
And still there's loneliness. At last I meet
One pair of eyes; a smoker on the street.