Progress,

Items hurl toward you,
a barrage of needs and wants
 propel along the sleek,
silvery surface.
If I don't stop  them,
some may implode upon contact
with the sharp steel edge,
Heart racing,
my hands
attack boxes and bottles,
a flurry of fingers
desperately attempt to slow
the onslaught.

 Finally,
the last item is whipped toward
me and I hear,

 "68 euros madame."

I have survived another encounter
in the trenches
of  shopping for groceries.