A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
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.