when that woman who struck your eye
one day pirouettes
around the lettuce to the red ripe tomatoes
several spectators their carts
separate your
purchase  from your desire
a big woman loading potatoes
and carrots her steel cage overflowing with chickens
*** pies and saggy ****\donuts and little debbies chocolate
sugar pills
and then the two year old in her mother's shadow
wary of the tall signs declaring bargain
harbors amid the frenzy
of all the selections offered freely
fears to loose the hem of the plaid skirt
her mother threw on carelessly showing her
pale thighs
thinking of
a dinner she prepared
for a tall guy handsome and young
a lifetime ago (she thinks where
is he now)
as crisp as new
as the asparugus arranged in rows
before she got married
and your desire
a new aisle has gone
to the flour sacks and sugar yeast powdery
wares aisle number three
and your imagination flows from the staples you came to
make the hunger again refrain from
idling your days nights your everything
to her ankles how they are so feminine
and how cat like quick her long red nails
flick the gravy in a packet to the bottom
of her basket she
concentrates on only one task
which pancake mix to buy
and your ego flips and sizzles like that sacrificial first
crepe the dogs fight over
your mind a mess you follow now
unconcious
your cart wobbling
always seem to get the noisiest one
unbalanced one wheel wobbling
back and forth
unsure of itself
as she lingers near
the cake mixes hoping she takes the strawberry one
and cream cheese frosting in a can
pretend you do that you are interested perusing studying
the shake and bake varieties BBQ and Classic ******* the boxes
one  eye on her choicest picks
while all the time preoccupied with
calves  and the back of her knee  her green cape
her eyes her red nails long fingers
the way she shops
like a goddess near her
tenderness a gourmet's dream
the choicest cut of market new
still the people nod and push through
most not heeding you
on a supermarket quest a game to win
puzzle stacks of cereal on special
arranged like pyramids
almost mid-aisle
careful you return to
reality and just miss toppling the Raisin Bran
monument
she has turned the corner
aisle four now
her with the calfs and that hollow  
back of a leg behind her petite knee
a sash
gay green in perfect contrast
draped over her bare shoulders
to her auburn hair
her legs longer
and more agile and god
you have bad thoughts
imagining
wait you say, thinking to your sotted self
this cart is empty it may be obvious my aims
so you gather two bags of instant grits
one box of starch you will throw out
and salt enough to last you to eternity
faster now walk push the loud wobbly out of balance cart
the box of starch bouncing among the torn grits pouring
now a path Hansel and Gretel would be proud of
you turn the corner your heart sank when she had
gotten out of sight
and faster now your urge is known trying to think of an
opening line
what brings you here   hell no
are you a Sagitarius  *** you fumble
again she is in your sight and her neck as she looks up to select
paper towels from the top shelf
is like a bird one of those egrets long svelte white
her chin a perfect cliff
and she has this way
you can only dream of
then
**** she spies you looks sly smiling
think of something to say idiot
fast take that bottom lip out from between your teeth
look confident give her back some of that I don't care
attitude be debonair
which you suddenly ponder is hard to do in here
in aisle four when
her green eyes are burning holes
like lasers in your cheeks your nose
wipe the wetness off your lips
you look into your cart
spying the half empty grits and the trail you left behind
but now is not the time to stutter or worry or defer
it's now or never
and you trip
over your two left feet
and push as you fall down
your cart
takes flight
annoying wheel calling
into her side
as you die
she laughs and says in angel's purr
I saw you there when I came in
I wondered were you ever going to catch up
and suddenly the speaker loud screamed in a dark
omniscient voice clean up on aisle four
on your knees now looking up
the embarrasment a price tag flashing
red  
as any apple cheeks
all that came out your mouth was
so sorry Madam
so you bellied up
a chance you manly took
took her hand and gently kissed it
thinking how by god
have I been blessed
and the story did not end there
you both had grits for dinner
and strawberry cake with cream cheese icing
and you can find your way back to aisle four
to reminisce every time you need to smile
just follow that trail of grits

words fell
    like broken
        glass
                from
your lips
                onto
bloodstained
                       carpet
lacerations
              searing your
bruised heart,
      transplanting
              its jagged rips
into mine
  beats sharply feathered
like injured
                wings,
angel eyes
   pigmented my color,
    blinded by a
cool sheen
hiding behind
                 tears
You are but a child,
young fresh entity
yet know the weight
of heavy
    and suddenly
nothing else
       matters
only your light
in my world,
however
         dark you get
nothing material
can fix it and I will
stop it all
to press
the button
          of time
and give
you
the
       world

I'm not in love
with your words

I'm in love with
the way you think

not just
delighted,
entertained,
endlessly curious,
sufficiently bewildered
and longing to climb inside
the gears tick-tocking your mind

but that your brain takes me
into a state of utter awe
blissing me still

it's looking into
this distorted hologram
mirror where I'm seeing
more of me, but from
different perspectives
than the usual 2D
similar to me, yet,
inversely intriguing

it's live and undulate
reflective truth serum
rooting me in now

that's why I slid
right down your throat -
I speak your language
and apparently intuitively
know how to crack you
allkindsa open

(even if it takes a
white-hot light year
and unprecedented doses)

it's like with you
I'm the me-est me
I can be
it's so

magically delicious
I don't try to escape
inside me anywhere

you make me want to
be more here
with you

on the outside

share all the parts
I learned it best to hide
on the in

though I know
it's a wee bit ******,
if these treatises become
merely the sheer prologue
to The Most Unbelievable Tale
of Mystical Love Perhaps Ever Spun

the fact that
seeing you is
seeing me
means

loving you is
loving me too

this could be
- so -
healthy

like shots of
marine phytoplankton
chased with green smoothie

and my ponderings
keep meandering
around this one thing:

what happens when
it gets to the point where
your pictures painted of me
completely override
my false stories

- forevermore -

when I eat
so much of the mirror
I become - fully -
the me I see
through your
Windexed eyes

I daresay
that’s levitating off
the porch of full potential
outside our diamond-cut pyramid
with the gold-engraved signage
hanging in front of our
intergalactic portal

where one
might have
once

looked for a door

that now seems
completely archaic
and unnecessary

Inside this
depth of the perpetual,
I hold onto the light,
learning that
it is not an illusion
but a constant
            fire within
hard as metal
simultaneously lava soft
no longer boneless,
lumped jelly
              in a flaccid bowl
Instead I am bowled over
with new power,
plugged into
my own electric universe
in rushes of ******* voltage
that was always waiting for me
to see it
to allow it inside
the tissues of my body
to flow up and through
intestines, muscle, heart and bone
threads from
                 a glowing orb
that slake
and snake through me
like a river's glory
leaving the spirit on edge for more
and I am ever grateful
to take that light
                  spin it into a gift
                       unwrap it slowly
                            drape it
                              over me like
                                 a flowing,
unstitched garment        
pour its liquid-tipped velvet
onto my follicles, sensitive
tender luminosity
touching all the right places
its silvery essence
flooding me in
drips and slips
healing all the lost
and lonely places,
desolation's imprint
hollows of brimmed-over    
                        despair
I have become
a quivering, stellar bud
bursting forth, each day
                       burning into new
rebirth in quenching torrents
ripe as ovarian silk
soaked in
cellular juice
inner seeds ready to be flung
unto the earth
into the wilderness
into expansion
ready to
bloom
          and bloom
          and bloom
   again