What thoughts have I,
pushing my trolley
around this supermarket.

Another solitary walk
shopping for images,
and a beautiful
Chinese woman
to share my life with.

Open isles of pork chops
and my feet dragging
across the ground.
Passing the ladies selling
expensive hair conditioner,
to the weary and unrequited.

‘Where are we going’, asked Camus
I am reading him now.

There is meaning here,
at least for some,
and absurdity is a distant memory.

Everyone in this supermarket
seems to have a mission.
Following a 5000 year old star
to the end of the road.

They taste the sweet bread,
and stroll dreaming of
possessing every
frozen delicacy from a foreign land.
They are not scared or unclear,
or make love cry.

Everyone knows they are part of history,
except me.