My Shopping Cart Photo Collection

Giving a voice to the abandoned shopping cart

“Can somebody please give me a hand? I’m stuck and don’t want to get hit by a car. Excuse me, ma’am, my left front wheel doesn’t turn, and I can’t muster enough strength to get up this incline. I can take it from there if you push me to the sidewalk.”

This get-together looks like a coffee klatch of shopping carts. A group of retired gentlemen are shooting the bull and having their morning brew. “Sam, what did you think of the Dodger’s loss last night?” “I don’t know, Charley. It looked like the manager screwed up. He shouldn’t have pulled Kershaw in the fifth inning.”

There’s no room for the fancy carts in this group, just a bunch of old codgers with arthritic wheels and one guy with a lot of baggage from the past.

“Yo, Reds. Can you pass me that can of WD-40? I’m feelin’ a little rusty this morning.”

Two unfortunate shopping carts. They are overwhelmed by collected objects, memorabilia, collages, unwanted items, newspaper articles, and trinkets from a homeless person’s past.

“What do we look like?” the carts say. “A couple of U-Haul trucks?”

Sad carts weighed down by life’s unnecessary items, just wanting to lighten their load and move away from the tree. The bird droppings are terrible this time of year.

A stream of consciousness popped into my head when I saw this abandoned cart: Only the lonely. The loneliness of a hunter, misery has no company, here I am depressed and hopeless, helpless is my game — despondency is my name, forlorn and torn up, desperation speaks in painful pauses, bridge of regret, and isolation road.

“It’s sunrise, the Blue Jays are chirping, the bees are buzzing, and I’m ready for action. I have my water bottle, and I feel spry and industrious. The only problem is that my front wheel is locked, and I can’t get rolling. I need a store manager from Ralph’s to unlock it ASAP. Then I can get back to work.”

© 2022 Mark Tulin

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