A Hundred Gourds 4:4 September 2015

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Carol Pearce-Worthington - USA

Key Food

This is the grocery store where you appear with ghostly regularity. First the fruit aisle then lettuce radishes and on to the grumpy deli man for cheese caught in a narrow aisle swizzling around a worker unloading boxes from a hand-truck and around to check on fish — those prices-! Read the flier grab the milk check the dates orange juice with pulp squeeze by the person studying the eggs pardoning yourself pardoning others nipping shoes bumping with the cart reading the sale flier losing your list as you walk—mayo eggs what’s the ice cream price maybe hamburger but no it’s cheaper at Pioneer the cold ice cream door frosted over such boring flavors the full cart somehow happens—pork shoulder—make him happy—winding up at ice cream freezer again behind a woman staring at the containers with doors open a worker edges by you wedge your cart around a child dart for the shortest checkout stacking items that whiz by producing a long receipt—stuff that in a purse that swings around your neck like a noose—load all into a purple cart that’s grows fat and heavy guaranteed to wear on your shoulder joints elbow hip and your eyes are not so great either. Money spent, key food seven blocks from home, dragging the purple cart bumping over cracked sidewalks through red lights look out for strollers little girls prancing in pink shoes and check the mail box before entering the elevator then unpacking the freezer and repacking it anew so what’s for supper.

sun on branches
a leaf

some things just
sound smart

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