Looking around while sitting here at Fry's Food Store,
lights shining, being reflected upon the floor, plastic
packaging, glass over menus in little areas.
Eyes spreading across the store, aisles holding many
products, canned, frozen, dry and samples being given
to customers, trying to sell more of certain products.
People walking about, pushing grocery carts, filling
them with all types of food to bring home for meals
during the week, just watching and observing everyone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem