TD (12/6/41 to? / Amersham, Buckinghamshire)

Woe Is Me

If there’s only just one trolley
In a supermarket which
Has wheels which go all different ways
And pushes like a bitch,

Then there’s only just one customer
Who gets it every time.
It’s me - and I start using words
I can’t put into rhyme.

I try to push it forward
And it lurches to the right
And if I try to compensate,
It lurches left in spite.

So it ends up at an angle
With the front end pointing back
And to get the thing in motion’s
Like line-dancing with a yak.

Everyone goes sailing past,
Their trolleys piled up high
And I’m stuck in the gangway
With just one small shepherd’s pie.

I only use a trolley
Cos I’ve asthma, sad to say
And a basket could get heavy
And fair take my breath away

So I try to make things easy
With a trolley for support,
It ought to be quite helpful
But it’s nothing of the sort.

What energy I started with
Has vanished in thin air,
The direction that I’m going in
Is neither here nor there.

And I don’t know which way to go,
I have to wait I find
Until the b****y trolley
Has made up its b****y mind.

by Terry Donovan

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