Second Wind

Man Shopping

There's a statue in our garden
Arms folded on its chest.
The statue's face is totally blank.
We call it 'man at the shops.'

I try hard to be good shopping
I try not to whinge or moan
I can maybe manage two hours of it
Before I want to go home.

I get past caring what we buy
Start staring into space
It's bad enough just tagging round
And lugging my wife's bags.

But she expects me to show an interest
To help her make a choice
I just want to be out of there
And doing something else.

The changing rooms are the worst bit
She takes an armful of clothes
I'm left outside all by myself
Trying to keep out the way.

Then she'll come out want me to say
Whether I like it or not.
So what am I supposed to say?
She must know what she wants?

Those agonising decisions
About what to buy or not
They can't be worth the time we spent
Just buy it if you want!

They never have her size it seems.
That really happens a lot.
So then we get a diatribe
About the nations' shops.

And if the shop has not quite got
The thing she's looking for.
We have to go around again
In case it's really there.

And if we find the item she wants
But there is more than one
She has to check them; get the best.
But they are all the same to me!

I'm not cut out for this shopping.
I'm not sure many men are.
My favourite part of the outing
Is coming home in the car.