Super Market Feelings

I started crying in the produce aisle.
I couldn’t look at the gourmet cheeses for more than a moment.
I got lost in the Supermarket
I no longer know how to shop happily
Glass of water by the bedside
Reminds me- to keep hydrated
I worried that mother of my children
won’t be perfect, was father’s? For him.
For me there is always a doubt, always a curious Iago
Whispering in my ear, I forget where I am for a moment
And as she passes me by I linger on in the feeling that I had one, a feeling to hook yourself onto. I got hooked and abstained for fear of being an addict, shopping for whatever it was on my list that wasn’t what I wanted, that I knew I wanted more of. It was as dangerous as chocolate and as tempting as the rotisserie, cooking me around and around, slowly over time, the juiciest parts of me ripe for the plucking, it’s on sale too, but I mustn’t I’m watching my weight, I’m a weight watcher now, just like I’ve always wanted. I’ve watched everything from from from 230 to 180 and I am trying to fit just right, I need to find the nuts, walnut my way to your almond eyes can I cashew? I don’t know


One comment

  1. I’m beginning to wonder if something like that is happening in contemporary fiction. We expect literary revolutions to come from above, from the literary end of the spectrum — the difficult, the avant-garde, the high-end, the densely written. But I don’t think that’s what’s going on. Instead we’re getting a revolution from below, coming up from the supermarket aisles. Genre fiction is the technology that will disrupt the literary novel as we know it.

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