Despite my great haste to
Get Things Done
I am stalled behind a
Much Older One

With quiet nostalgia
She’s choosing a cheese
My words are forming
Well, excuse me, please

I’m forty years younger
I need to press on
This mile-long shopping list
My day not young

You seem to seek a memory
From recesses of your mind
I pause expectantly, waiting
Standing right behind

Lines at the cashier forming
My cell phone buzzes news
But there you stand quite still, serene
For you’ve got no time to lose