Facing Disapproval at Wal-Mart
Coffeepot not sputtering, no light,
disaster to stop the morning flow
of shuffle step, to-do list
and leaf patterns dark against
the lightening window pane.
Emergency measures needed,
clothes hustled on, cord ripped,
car hurried. The greeter lady
must greet me with a mop.
Such hurry has left water
in the plastic well of the pot
to rain down on the early,
clean and polished floor.
The customer service lady
is accusatory, as well, says
her return man or repair man
or whoever accepts her pot,
her cord not adangle,
that man speaks in amazement
at the clinically clean way
she keeps it, no brown stains,
no damp ground bits clinging.
Her heart is righteous,
her days are pure.
I hurry home, a little shamed.
But the world is soon righted
with my new pot gurgling.
The morning ablutions have
righted themselves, and I return
happily to my complacent,
unrepentant self.