On the Art of Returning

Hark! What monstrous beast, what wailing newborn,
What fresh new hell approaches in my line?
Is there something there, curtains lightly worn,
Perhaps an old coffeepot wrapped in twine?
Have you your card, good ma’am, or your receipt?
Anything I could use to lend you aid?
There’s no need to shout, ma’am, nor use deceit,
It is not for this shit that I get paid.
Do you not realize I am human, too,
Not some peon meant to simper and bag?
Is that too difficult for you –
Beyond your limited nature, you hag?
Quitting this job will be scratching an itch:
I’ll tell you how I feel, you giant bitch.