Monday, March 28, 2016

Where is hightouchmegastore?

[after Jim Harrison, 'Where is Jim Harrison?']

She woke up, checked every ache, drank water, slept again.
She stripped the sheets from the bed and
hefted a bag of white beans in her hands.

Peeled a dozen blood oranges and sliced
a fennel bulb on a mandolin, slicing more slowly
when her fingers got close to the blade.

She staved off the notion, yet again, that she was too old.
She worked at her list like a dog worrying a bone.
She wandered the aisles of a megastore.

She walked to church then back home again,
sang a testament she can't set aside.





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