They stack their cart with essentials:
frozen garlic, six packages of grilled
mushrooms, fifteen cans of garbanzo
beans, three bottles of truffle oil and
enough alkaline water to float a fleet
of dinghies. There is, alas, no hand
sanitizer, no toilet paper. You must
decide, he says, between the jar of
organic marinara and the 2% milk.
Weighing need against desire she
chooses the sauce, then selects a
bundle of the brightest daffodils.
Robert Okaji is a widely published poet who is currently working on the front lines at a grocery store in Indianapolis.
Sad–when Black and Latinos are dying of covid with little to eat– some are hoarding not just regular water but alkaline water. Thank you for sharing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
And thought the supermarket frenzy started here in Australia…I hope you have fully recovered Robert… hugs from distant Geelong..
LikeLiked by 1 person
And thus started the pandemic garbanzo bean shortage.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Loved this!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Agreed. Awesome ending!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you very much.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Welcome.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Beauty before existential crisis for sure. Hmm..toilet paper daffodils? 😉 Hope you’re well and good Bob.
LikeLiked by 2 people
It could come to that, though I managed to score a small pack of tp yesterday. We’re all fine here, and hope to stay that way!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Love how this poem ends!
LikeLiked by 5 people
Thank you, Lynne. An example of life and art meshing!
LikeLiked by 2 people