Hit And Fun Poem by Ima Ryma

I am at the grocery store,
Moving with my cart down the aisle.
In the middle of the aisle floor
Is a sight that raises my bile.
A lady and her cart loom still,
Leaving no room on either side.
She's talking on her phone, quite shrill,
Ignoring my 'excuse mes' tried.
So with my cart, hers gets a bump,
Pushing it over from its rut.
The lady's cart makes a loud thump,
As it plows into her rude butt.

She shrieks. I say in a terse tone,
'Shh! You're trying to use the phone.'