Stolen Roses
Stolen Roses
Today I stole from Kroger. Didn’t mean to.
The checkout robot said, repeatedly,
“Place the item in the bag.” The bag
grew full and overflowed with groceries,
but when I tried to take the bag away
and place it in the cart, the robot said,
“Replace the item in the bag.” I can’t!
The robot beeped, said “Help is on the way.”
Help arrived, unlocked the frozen robot.
I scanned my items, placed them in the cart.
“Place items in the bag.” I cannot!
The bag is full! “Place items in the bag.”
The robot beeped, said “Help is on the way.”
Help arrived, unlocked the frozen robot.
Before the bot could freeze again, I paid
with credit card, placed items in the cart
and rolled it out into the parking lot
where I discovered that I hadn’t paid
for one cucumber, a bottle of OJ,
a pint of berries, and a discount rose bouquet
all lodged in the baby seat compartment.
I have no baby. I fill the baby seat
of my family friendly shopping cart
with items to prevent their getting crushed
or crushing other items if they’re heavy.
Beside the open trunk of my Subaru
I meditated. What would Jesus do?
Return the unpaid items to the store?
Turn around and roll back through the doors,
seek out the manager, explain, and pay?
Or give away the items to the poor
like Robin Hood? Or would he, like me,
shrug and place the items in the trunk,
back out of the space and drive away
with items that he did not mean to steal.
For you, my love: a stolen rose bouquet.