When the bread bin
Is empty
I put on my uniform
My police officer’s uniform
Medals dangling
Down my chest
To the rowdy bread queue
To maintain order
To buy bread
Without a hassle
When the maize-meal tin
Is low
I put on my uniform
My army officer’s uniform
With sergeant’s gold stars
Pinned on my shoulders
To quickstep
To the warlike mealie-meal queue
To buy mealie-meal
Without joining the queue

When I am out of fuel
I wear my army colonel’s garb
With its conspicuous badges
Swinging around me
To ghost walk
To the bumper-to-bumper fuel queue
To buy the fuel
From behind the queue

When the family says
Sugar is spent
I wear my uniform
My constabulary tunic
To march
To the anxiety-charged sugar queue
To suppress all dissent
When I jump the queue

When I go window-shopping
I wear my uniform
My petrol officer’s reflector vest
Weighed down by silver, service medals
Clanking noisily
To gain quick entry
And to travel free
On public transport