Fronting Poem by Rebecca Wolff

I front
because I can

I front because
I care: the secret to fronting

you must never stop
to think gleaming

rows
pristine abundance

the saucy daughter
of the devil, fra diavolo

I'm not using metaphor:
I can't get over how much I love

this product design,
and the conceit of the product

(which is delicious, btw):
superfruits, from different continents.

That impulse to make things look pretty
and sell more

in the agrarian landscape
unprecedented

divisions of labor—friendly old hippies
unfriendly young hippies—I feed six people

and then I stop.
That soup sells

and this soup obviously doesn't sell as much.
And I trust people

to make good choices
so I don't have to impale them

on the tines of my pitchfork. Or otherwise

govern them. Why do you need so much
government, if you don't like government why

do you insist upon making
these bad choices.