my greatest fears: failure, spiders, and grocery stores
we cruised in between
aisles of
brown egg cartons and partially squashed tomatoes
sugared lemon cookies and Cheerios
heaps of tiny brussel sprouts and wrinkled kiwis
grocery stores are delightful places
for a four year old
my mother plucked a plump cherry from its friends
(and another so it wouldn’t be lonely)
and i tittered my delight
cherries taste best when finished together
yet as the soft skin split under my teeth
and the juice dribbled down my chin
beneath the aura of spicy, warm bread
came the sharp stench of sour beer
and cigarette smoke
maybe it was a gift
that i loved grocery stores so much
for had i not been lost in bliss
i would have seen what people do to you
when you look different from them
when the tones of human paint do not match
the stone of my cherry rang hollow in my mouth
as i asked my mother why she was crying?
but tears do not reek of old men cigarette breath
and tears do not scratch and splatter across your face like dye
stained the color of lush cherry flesh
it’s been twelve years since my mother has gone to a
grocery store alone