By Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

If you arrive at the supermarket checkout,

At the same time that another customer’s ‘stinkwave’ arrives at your checkout chick’s nose,

Their is a very high chance of ‘mistaken stink identity’.

You may see a poorly hid, ‘scrunched up face of horror’ in front of you.

Yet you cannot protest or explain – for to be seen as a ‘drama queen’ is much much worse.

All you can do is keep quiet & put your armpit’s reputation on the line,

& hope that next week the same exact thing doesn’t happen again.

Yes visiting the Supermarket in person is full of risks of all kinds.

You’re better off ordering alone by yourself from a soulless screen –

Where their is zero risk of ‘mistaken stink identity’ –

Where if there are any ‘stinkwaves’, they’ll be ‘own brand’, your own nose, & you won’t give a shit anyway.

But then I ask of you Sir or Maddam – where’s the fun in that?

And to the lights-on-but-no-one’s-home-folk that recoil in horror about a poem about BO?

Can’t you see that you rose-tinted-glasses view of the world isn’t helping anyone, let alone yourself?

The San Padro Poet was right when he talked about the ills of ‘Disneyfication’

There’s dirt, grunge, & bad smells & much worse in this world,

So let it be described in all it’s uncomfortable rancid true colors.

Though let’s be frank – the leafy greens types in aisle 7 will never catch on.

But perhaps a few will walk by the ‘gutter poetry aisle’ one day,

And look squarely at one of our poems,

Lift up their rose tinted glasses and read the first line or two,

And after the third line upon raising a single eyebrow up high,

Instead of the their usual loudly dismissive herumpf followed by clomping getaway feet –

There is just a barely audible ‘pfft’ followed by gentle mouse steps to the vacuum-packed salmon section.

Mickey Mouse will slowly start erasing himself.