There's something kind of surreal about wandering the brightly lit aisles of a grocery store--past all those gaudy packages, entire rows of canned fruits, wine bottles with crazy labels, exotic fruits piled with apples and oranges, four kinds of Frosted Mini Wheats--while really tired. We had to do it, we needed food. But it wasn't easy. Still, poetry is everywhere, even when clouded by exhaustion.
Perfectly stacked cans,
bright boxes hold our dinner--
this is food for thought.
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