This small supermarket, backing onto where we live,

has served us faithfully; open all the hours

that we’re awake; whey-faced young staff,

minimum-waged and wishing themselves anywhere

else on earth, ever ready to dispense the things

our lives depend on: milk, newspapers, a lemon,

overpriced butter.


Though I remember when this was no supermarket

but a video store; new releases where

the fruit and veg now are, horror

in the dairy section, comedy in packaged goods.

And back then all the films we rented – the quirky

romcom, the well reviewed Polish mood-piece –

were on VHS.