Wrong aisle


in between the coffee
and the crackers,
your painted on face
lights up,

I croak
in dismay,

god, this day

panting,happy to see me,squeeze-me-to-death hug,

god, this day

cosmic
fodder,

too many
apples
in your cart,

no one drinks
that much milk,

breasts
hanging out,
curlers in,

sweaty-palmed past
dry-lipped kiss, and

“I’m
so happy
to see you,”

you say

“I am not,” I say,
and I grab my coffee
and my crackers
and I am
on
my
way