The exercise:
On this, the 711th day in a row for this blog, it only seems appropriate to have a prompt of: the corner store.
For those of you outside of North America, 7-Eleven is our Kwik-E-Mart.
Mine:
Mister Anderson
Seemed to live
Behind the counter
Of our local corner store.
He never said hello,
Nor goodbye,
Nor much of anything
Now that I think of it.
But that didn't stop
Us kids from loving him
And spending our every penny
On his bright sugary treats.
I guess I just miss
Old Mister Anderson,
But not as much
As I miss my youth.
2 comments:
Ah, I encountered my first 7-11 in Canada this trip! I was... unimpressed, but then perhaps I'd gotten the wrong idea from popular culture :)
I like your poem, especially the last line.
The corner store
No soup, no shoes,
No bread, no tinned peas,
No mops, no candles; no matches, no cheese,
"Not today, please!"
I don't know what it sells,
And I don't want what it might,
But I love going in and asking for things,
Morning, noon, and night.
Don't worry, I'm unimpressed every time I'm unlucky enough to go in one too :)
Those last four lines totally make your poem. Love 'em.
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