I hate shopping at the supermarket but I do anyway

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thoughts at the supermarket

(i) It’s a little cold in here, 
a little too dark,  
I wish I could cover myself a little, 
wear my cape, 
walk away a little, 
maybe fly a bit, 
just a little bit; 
hide from all those prying eyes,
people guessing (making) my story,
I wish I could be invisible;
just a little;
should I buy more bread? 

(ii) I can’t fit in here, 
grocery shopping at 4am, 
I can’t sleep, 
should I buy some cheese? 
I hate cheese.
I miss cheese. 
cheese reminds me of you. 
you loved cheese, 
we always ordered spaghetti with extra cheese,
I always hated it.
I buy more cheese.

(iii) I’m standing in the aisle, 
between vegetables and cookies, 
wondering if I should buy a knee cap? 
my knees hurt from all the running,
over and over and over again, 
at the pace of my heartbeat, 
I’m running away every day, 
but I’m not sure from what, 
so I come back every night
and put some ointment on my knees.

(iv) I buy stamps, 
and notepads, 
I love the thought of writing letters to you, 
with sketches that only you can understand, 
I buy flowers for the postman, 
and lilies, 
flowers remind me of the time you spilled coffee on my favourite dress, 
and we giggled a little till it dried off, 
and time stopped, 
so did we. 

(v) I buy more coffee, 
a little more, 
and a new perfume, 
for new stories, 
and new memories, 
I don’t want to miss the sound of your laughter, 
but I do, 
so I buy new cassettes, 
new music, 
songs whose lyrics aren’t tattooed in my memory. 

(vi) I buy ointments for my scars 
and medicines for my pain, 
and pretend that I don’t remember 
how it feels to have my heart bleed out dry 
I’m okay, 
I’m okay, 
I’m okay, 
I walk around, 
pretending that I am, 
and maybe one day, 
I will be. 

(vii) I ask for my bill, 
even smile at the cashier, 
he smiles back. 
he knows I buy the same things every week, 
but I like pretending not to know what I’d buy, 
so he plays along, 
he things I’m okay,
sometimes, I believe him too, 
maybe one day, 
I’ll walk in to this supermarket, 
with a smile on, 
and a fresh list, 
till then, 
I walk around a little, 
and try to find my way home.

_I hate shopping at the supermarket but I do anyway

National Poetry Writing Month, Day 9.


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