You're my shop

I meet you behind closed doors
discover you walking the floor
seeing in you everything I want 
I know you're my shop

our relations were constrained
until my credit limit was raised
I love the weight of full bags
reminded of you in subway ads

the practical side of our love
Is displayed for the world to see
we fit like hand in glove
on sale for the winter season

the only relationship I have
Is the banter with your associates
I live on a planet made up
entirely of parking garages