He and his wife ran a high class grocery shop <br />and I was often outside looking in absorbing <br />rarefied air of middle class living, that was till <br />his wife saw me and shushed me away. <br />War came, the window display got a bit thinner <br />by now there was also a sprinkling of officer of <br />the occupying army. A grocer hear things and it <br />can, if whispered in the right ear, be advantageous. <br /> <br />The war ended and the grocer had money to paint <br />his shop in bright colours, which was nice in a war <br />weary, drab little town. Time is an enemy his wife <br />died he displayed her picture amongst Portuguese <br /> sardines. And we all came to look. A supermarket <br />opened and we lost interest in a little grocer shop.<br /><br />oskar hansen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-collaborator/
