Introduction and Poe-Try #1

Greetings!  I'll be posting here sporadically, for a very specific purpose--to share my attempts at poetry or "Poe-Tries" where, as the name suggests, I Try to write Poetry.  I have three Poe-Tries ready so far, and new ones will be posted as they are composed.  NOTE:  This blog will NOT be used for any ancillary purpose, such as voicing opinions, informing on current life events, etc, etc.  Poetry postings only.

Without further ado, I present Poe-Try #1: "but for him it was thursday".

but for him, it was thursday

I walked into Publix, one Thursday evening
My mind wandering
My eyes not seeing.

For most of what they could see
at that moment, was only things.
I have no gift for describing things.
To me, when I describe a thing I believe
It should be done as though I am
Interrupting my boss' phone call.

I keep it short, sweet, to the point--
And it had better be important.
Going about my task, I obtain
The pasta first.  I'm briefly pleased
That I managed not to forget the correct aisle as I am
Wont to do.

I move to the Bakery section, with intent to treat myself.
I spy packages of blueberry muffins--
The temptation of chocolate chip holds no sway
Over me this day.
I think about purchasing one, but then I spot
Delicious Yo-yos, four of them.

So many of them, needing a home.  I resolve
To give a home to one of them.  I move on
To my real purpose there, to buy a fried chicken sub
For my dinner. 
Ahead of me is one person, ordering
Largely the same thing.

Now people I CAN describe.  With things,
The beauty is largely external
Laid bare for all to see.
With people, the beauty is internal
Hidden from view.
I suspect I could write an entire epic ballad on a single face.

We converse.  He is actually an employee, as I knew from his clothes
He is on break.  He loves the fried chicken sub very much
But slathered in sauces, and very few toppings.
I enjoy the opposite.  I bring this up, we move on.
He says his name is Steven.  A good name.  An employable name.
A name that surely made working there all the easier.

It is my turn.  I step up to the counter
And my thoughts turn to Kyle
As they often do at the deli counter.  I study
This other worker.  His name is Chase.
It fits--he goes about his task with the look
Of a man chasing something, a man only here for now.
My respect for him blossoms.

I say to him "Always remember, this job can always take your time
But it can only take your soul if you let it.  Don't let it."
My time with him done, I leave for the checkouts.
I notice that for once, the express lane
Will indeed be express.  I am again pleased.
I wait my turn, noting the final employee before me.

I liked his name at the time, but forget it now.
Even retrospectively, this is a bad sign.  I set
My items on the conveyor, and wait.  My turn
Comes, and I see his face clearly.  I attempt
To converse, like with the other two but my
Attempts are in vain.  This one sinks my heart.

For, from his look, his soul has indeed been taken.
Perhaps it is only on loan, for his shift,
Perhaps it is indeed permanently sold.  I take
My bags, and leave, saddened.  For me this day
Was not A day, but one in a long line of THE days.
Full of boundless possibility.
But for him, it was Thursday.