the big store

walking through
the big store
that has everything
you could ever
need for your house
you get depressed
and sad. you want
a new kitchen, a
red kitchen with
shiny marble counters
and drawers
that close on their
own. a stove
with all the buttons
smiling at you.
deep and wide
that you could fit
a pizza box into.
that rug over
there would look
good in the hall.
that chair, though useless,
would brighten up
the livingroom.
lamps are everywhere
illuminating your
pain and woe.
how wonderful your
life could be
if you had those boxes
over there, and those
black and white
oversized photos
of bees. but you buy
nothing, only
a candle on the way
out, vanilla scented
and then some
swedish meatballs
at the store cafeteria.