Grocery cart grinding, squealing, stuttering
(because somehow I always choose the one
with the bad wheel),
I’m thrilled to see a checkout lane
with no waiting!
Not self-checkout…
a real lane with cashier, bagger, and conveyor belt-
a small miracle.
Shrieking round the end cap of protein bars
and potato chip bags,
securing my place
in line
(first place!),
I realize with sinking heart
I’ve forgotten the Diet Sprite
and all its horrible chemicals
(but still
no caffeine);
so I drag my cart,
wheels screeching in protest,
backward
toward the soda aisle
which is close
(so close).
But the cart doesn’t want to turn,
sensing he was near the end of his service,
almost to the cart corral
where he could rest easy
in the sun
while dozens of other carts piled in behind him
waiting for the high school cart kid
(on his phone)
to attach them to the motorized cart robot
(Warning! No more than 25 carts!),
and guide them back into the store.
Wheeee! A cart ride for the carts!
But now, my cart resists the turn, 
so I (unkindly) give a sideways yank,
and the eggs
(It’s always the eggs!)
bump roughly against the 
back of the baby seat
where they were cradled.
And they’re probably broken,
but I need to get those Sprites
and get back to the beautiful,
empty checkout lane
and my first place spot. Hooray!
So I drag my cart from the wrong end
(the end without the handle)
into the soda aisle,
and I lift with my back 
instead of my legs and heft a
24-pack of Diet Sprite
half-settling, half-dropping it on the 
bottom rack beneath the cart
where I pray the scanner will reach
because I don’t have the
strength or dexterity
to finagle my way back to the 
bottom of this broken-down cart
in the middle of the too-tight
checkout aisle
to lift the 24-pack of sodas
that must contain mostly lead
(they are so heavy)
and slosh them onto the conveyor belt.
I do love the conveyor belt.
Don’t get me wrong-
no need to pile/stack/mound produce
and packs of hamburger meat
and salad dressings
like a teetering food pyramid
which I always end up doing in the self-checkout
when I mistakenly think I can make
a grocery run without a cart
or a too-tiny basket
so I gather food in my arms (as did my ancestors)
and then where to put it?
The shiny chrome square provided
for purchases pre-scanned
is insufficient…
probably so small to deter
exactly what I’ve done;
but I digress,
for I have a chance
to be first in line on this special day! 
I’m making my way back,
my cart jolting along
(like an old jalopy)
to the deserted checkout lane
when I see from the corner of my eye
a shopper,
smooth hair, 
smooth skirt,
smooth cart
smooth skyscraper of groceries
meticulously arranged
in her stealthy, silent cart…
and she whips right in front of me
and just like that
I’ve
lost 
my 
place.