At the supermarket

At the supermarket meat case, two women, backs bent over the well-lit array of packages of beef, pork, chicken. They are centered on the chicken: legs, thighs, breasts. One of them moves packages of boneless breasts around, checking total prices on the packages, says, "There don't seem to be any bargains here."
The other woman says, in a resigned tone, "There aren't many of those anywhere anymore. I keep waiting for chicken drumsticks and thighs to go on sale for $1.99 a pound, and I don't think it's going to happen."
"Well," says the first woman, reaching to the side, "Y'gotcher legs and thighs here for $2.39..."
"I know..."
"But it isn't $1.99."
A silence while the two stare some more at the packages of boneless chicken breast. Family-size packages of eight or ten half breasts . . . cheaper per pound than the packages of three or four. 
"I hate to lay out fifteen dollars for chicken..."
"Me too. But I want to cook something different!"
"Oh, what the hell. What're y'gonna do? There's only so much pasta you can eat." and the first woman takes the package marked $2.49 per pound, $14.31 total, the lowest price in the bunch, and pitches it into her grocery cart.
The second woman laughs ruefully . . . "Right!" . . . and follows suit.

Nobody even bothers looking at the beef. 

Gives a whole new, and banal, perspective on the last two lines of Millay's The Anguish:

Happy are the toothless old and the toothless young,

That cannot rend this meat.