Red Light Glare

Frozen peas.

Just a bag of peas.

But the machine,

it hums its flat demand,

"Please scan your item."

I slide it over,

again,

and again.

The red line jiggles,

a frantic, useless dance

across the crumpled code.

It won't see.

It just won't see.

The screen stares back,

a blank, unblinking eye,

and I feel stupid,

like I'm failing

this one small, impossible test.

The queue behind me grows

a silent, judging mass.