Late Night Shopping

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lover me lover mine,
today I went to the grocery store
and bought my happiness,
jarred and pickled; added
sugar. The cashier had eyes
like yours, but his hands were
cold when they brushed
my skin. He packed my things
in paper bags and gave me
extra change. Gave me
a small smile too. I
could be his older
sister I could be his
cousin I could almost
be his aunty, young thing.
But I'm not, and his eyes made me
want to pluck the cherries
from his fingers, taste his
green sickness in my mouth.

Society, unsex me here.
Strip me down, new paint
off the old wooden
wall. Take from me these
gawdy female garments of
abstinence and caution, let
me look at the ceiling or
close my eyes as I lie alone
hand-in-crotch or with some
semi-stranger grunting above,
let me look to the
ceiling and think of you.

lover me lover mine,
satisfy me thus not
in presence but in
absense (abstinence -
painted red across the mouths
of my old teachers),
not in action but in
memory. I need no
man but myself and cold
recollections of you.

Next week I'll buy my canned
smiles and cross my
fabric-frayed fingers in the
checkout line.

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