I’m in the grocery store of dreams
No less than once a week
To sample cheese and hummus dips
And try to sneak a peek
At you, the tall and scruffy boy
Who works the checkout lines;
You scan the produce and the bread
But sadly, not the wine
(For Tennessee is far too strict
Regarding grocery sales:
No wine or liquor on the shelves,
But only Pumpkin Ales).
You’re cute and quiet, have good shoes,
And always wear a smile,
I wait in your line even if
It’s backed up for a mile.