Chris O'Carroll : Epic Receptacle

Swing by my side, string bag, companion stout.
Adventure with me down this High Street’s length.
In vain my mission I’d pursue without
The flimsy form that masks thy sturdy strength.

When I set out, thou art an empty net,
A lacy wisp of near invisibility,
But as from shop to shop I spend and get,
I live by trust in thy robust utility.

Thou faithful Panza to my questing knight,
Bearer of all the wares that I acquire,
How thy capacity serves to excite
My maximum potential as a buyer.

Thou art the vessel of prosperity,
Priceless in every merchant’s estimation.
Sing, Muse, of this twine-woven argosy
Freighted with all the bounty of the nation!

I swell thy web with nostrums sold at Boots,
With Waitrose luxury and Aldi thrift.
For curvilinear vegetables and fruits,
For square-edged books from Smith’s, thy shape doth shift.

At one store, I must note, thy mesh displays
More than it ought to. For decorum’s sake,
Private Shop merchandise from public gaze
I fain would hide.  Would thou wert more opaque.