in the grocery store
again. it seems I am here too often
cuing up
bartering paper
for slices of life.
it is not pretty this graceless dance.
there is a man and a woman
they argue over what brand of ice cream
to buy. the man has a woolen hat pulled down
low. his face seems to be made
of some kind of plastic
and the woman
her eyes gleam like knife blades
pupils the color of fly skin.
they are locked in a war never resolved
only terminated when one or the other
die.
I push a cart along. wheels wobble
against feeble perseverance.
this battle
man against woman
man against man
man against himself
no algebraic equations
exist to unriddle the war
it is eternal
and dull as a toothache.
at check out
I am asked if I found everything
I need today.
yes
I reply with
a rehearsed smile.
the
lie is now
instinctual.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem