long spindly grocery aisles
decorate the iris of my eye,
the eggs are rather intriguing
with their cardboard; their pasture or their free or their farm raised
I imagine that here, in twenty years,
my hair will be shorter
and that i’ll no longer pick my skin,
so it will be smooth and not as spotted as the eggs
I imagine bumping into each other,
apples stumbling out of grocery baskets
and the juice would slosh with a start
In twenty years your hair would be a new, vibrant shade of something - maybe in twenty years we’ll have invented a new pink hue
We’d have talked, long and drawn down the maze of freezers and chips
You would have the following
in the sweet green basket you hold;
avocados (for the good gauc that you make), tajin and lemons (for the popcorn, of course), coffee ice cream, those little paw print fruit snacks, and of course - a mass of lolipops
I would have…
orange juice, lemonade, and a box of earl gray tea, black and chamomile
I would have have oatmeal cookies and pesto, lemons and tajin, and the good salted popcorn
I would wish to tell you
to ditch the lemons, the tajin,
I would have enough for two
and in minds eye i could picture
the walk back to our apartment
like I was looking at a picture book
but in twenty years
it will be but a chance encounter
of friends who spoke
tangled on the phone,
friends for a time
and lovers for a moment
in twenty years
the sliding grocery doors
will bid me adieu
