The Checkout
A champ,
A nut,
A preg test.
A chocolate for being late
is what
the cashier cashed.
A "champ" for the champions,
a nut to crack the puzzle,
a test
to test the tests.
Her eyes:
Blaming,
Judging,
Full of motherly concern.
The test,
The champ,
The nut.
She still asks—
with karte,
the card,
to play some games—
while the nut
and the champ
wait.
The card
Unknown
Green
But her question
Written in her eyes:
A champ,
A preg test,
A nut.
Now the card—
Pin it.
Smiles.
Chimes.
Inside
A nut.
No.
A champ.
Wait.
-
Author:
imma isa kemmy (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 19th, 2026 10:21
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments2
Isa, this is quietly electric. The tension builds in such an ordinary space, and that restraint makes the moment feel charged and intimate. It holds me right at the checkout line. Fantastic!🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Thanks for ur comment,yeah its funny how the checkout can be hectic sometimes
For sure, it is. You are welcome, Isa.
Puzzles and riddles plague the mind but once felt understood all calms. It doesn't seem to matter if correct or not. Ignorance is bliss but once the test results come in and are clear it is time to celebrate. Well done
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