The Virus Shopped

The hustles and the bustles,
Surround us once again.
I try to stop and comprehend,
Will the tussles ever end?

Stacking the shelves as fast as I can,
Pick it up, scan it, place on shelf.
A mindless job that lets thoughts crowd in,
What am I doing here again?

All around me people run,
From one isle to another.
They're searching for stuff that never lasts,
So why do they go so fast?

Shouts and grunts and pushing fights,
Crowd the space around me.
For some reason I feel so off-course,
My job, can we get a divorce?

I glance at my rickety cart,
I still have a long way to go.
The boxes are so numerous,
I almost find it humorous.

By the end of my shift,
I will be covered in bruises.
My application states I have to take,
All the hits and yells that make me ache.

I suddenly hear a crackle,
From the store's loudspeaker.
"A warning to all shoppers,
We are all out of toilet paper,
If you wish, just buy a scraper."

Cries of outrage now fill the air,
As shoppers fight over their supplies.
A person on the floor, in a ball, curled,
They think this virus is the end of the world.