I get out of my car
Walk towards the sliding doors
That open to a paradise of food
I pass through to the promised land
Picking up a red basket
The bright lights hit my face
The packages all neatly nestled
Look at me with pleading eyes
Pick me, choose me, take me home
Products gently cradled in my basket
I stop to compare and contrast
Low fat, sugar-free
Fiber!
Moving along, passing this or that
Surrounded by endless choices
Suddenly I stop in the chip isle
And it hits me
The unnaturalness of it all
The fos fluorescent lights
The plastic cradles
The smear of bright colors
The pleading eyes
Slogans of the pre-packaged soul
It’s a brisk February afternoon
And I find myself crying
Alone
In the grocery store