Dancing Dust
	Poems by Mollie Caird (1922-2000)
	Last words
Home Alphabetic index of poems Thematic index of poems Biography Gallery Contact and links	The minibus brings them to the supermarket, Their local grocer’s gone, Dependable Mr Jones who stocked necessities And asked about the ailments and grandchildren. Now there’s nothing nearby, Just the shop selling oriental tat and the up-market deli. But they don’t want mirror-glass cushions and joss-sticks, They don’t want stuffed vine leaves and taramasalata, They want bread And cheese And Ajax And Mr Jones. They clutch the trolleys, which usefully disguise The need for sticks or zimmers, Clumsily corner the aisles, bemused by the clamour of choice. They haven’t heard the polysyllabic honours Showered on them by babbling sociologists: Experiential enhancement, creative diminishment. Here are bored strangers bleeping unJonesy tills, And short hard words: Use by Display until Best before Shelf life. Undated