the future

a kid
untethered by his
mother
begins to grab
your food on
the conveyor belt,
putting bananas
in his mouth.
handling your
bread and cans of
soup.
he rolls your honeydew
melon back at you
laughing like the
devil child he is.
and the mother,
not watching, not caring,
goes on
about her own
groceries.
you see future, and
it's not good.