As promised, here is a poem written in 1992.
The Emotion Store
by Rita Arens
He brought the autumn wind in with him,
standing at my door.
Keeping past the threshold,
not yet on my kitchen floor.
He wore a leather jacket,
his heart spattered on the sleeves.
He opened his mouth
then closed it,
terrified to speak.
I did, instead.
“I can only give you Friendship,
I haven’t any Love.
I used up all my Affection,
and I’m fresh out of Depression.
Come back next week when it’s on sale;
you look like you can’t wait.
Try the girl down the street;
she’s been full of Hate
and Sorrow.”
He offered me a bounty,
foreign cheese and wine,
said he hadn’t come for Sorrow,
just to buy some Time.
He’d already been down the block,
but their Time was out of stock.
Perhaps come back Thursday?
I was his only hope.
I blew out a breath filled with Spite;
I was still restocking Time,
and Love was on back-order.
I searched through all the catalogs,
checked sales sheets and made some calls,
but Anger is in this fall.
Nobody wanted flasks of Tears,
and it’s now gauche to display Fear;
Kindness is too last year.
Time went out in ‘82,
next time it’d be in, no one knew.
So I shook my head at the windblown man,
brushed him away with a flick of my hand,
sent him out into the cold.
Where he went next, he never told.
But he came back for Anger last week.
