There's a Woman in the Grocery Store

There's a woman in the gorcery store.

She'll be a doctor's wife some day.
They'll live in a house with just enough room.
A swing set will sit in their yard.
The children will always be neatly well dressed,
A minivan for her own car.
And once every month, when the need will arise,
someone else will be cutting her hair.

No more second-hand-me-down table and chairs
or second-hand-me-down clothes.
No more long waits in endless lines
while the baby turns from squirms to cries
and tattooed women drown the air with ciagarette smoke.
No more nervous days, wondering when more money might come,
knowing for certain the ever-present fear
of eviction, hunger, or cold.

She's a woman in the grocery store
with food stamps to pay the bill
surviving the shame of the moment
through a vision of something better
and miraculously
the minutes
pass.