He died and carried
in two plastic bags, doubled
the cans and packages of history
away from here.

Certainly not the whole store,
nor even a majority, but the canned goods section
at least
know his eyes and the
squeak of his cart.

His own private label, now
so unpopular, so out of date,
yet still sequestered in many cupboards
and dusted off and whistled at occasionally
has now reached the limits of its supply.

He was one for grand experiments
not as grand as those before him, perhaps,
but grand
and many of us now alive
may not see him nor his like again
checking dates on chicken thighs.

Indeed, there could be an omen here:

Hong Kong, too, may be Done Shopping.

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