Along the shabby shelves,
a troll pushes a wobbly trolley,
skids across three laden isles.
Spins tins of dung beetle beans
and smacks into glassy jam jars.
Eyeball crunchies roll to the mix
of litter-sweet marmalade.
Sniffs at his usual shopping list,
the favourite hairy napskin:-
One:
a quarter of roasted walrus nuts.
Two:
a family bag of gran’s fried nipples.
Three:
Frozen human crispy fingers.
Four:
Pick n’ mix of cocks n’ chicks.
He scratches his long thin chin,
as one thing he’s now forgotten,
fumbles inside sweaty pockets
only to be stung by wild free-bees.
Sees red ahead and won’t ever wait,
so brawls a dwarf at the checkout
lines to pay in golden capped teeth.
(Matt & Cassia joint poem)
