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Don’t Praise the Machine

by Harris Coverley

I used the self-checkout
At the supermarket

The supervisor
An older woman
Stood there
Robbed of meaning
Feet and ankles swelling
Sides bulging
Just waiting

At the end
As I lifted my bag
The checkout thanked me
With its cold indifferent voice

And what did I do?
I said “Thank you” right back
Right back to the machine

And the woman supervising
Turned and screamed
And crumbled into dust

I took my bag and left
It was sunny and warm outside
A real beauty of a day

Copyright © 2019 by Harris Coverley

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