Grocery Trip

Up the steps teals I see

with the texture of tiles, monumental

bricks of clay from Teotihuacán

weaved with cement

of the sidewalks of North Oakland

after my brief grocery trip.

Leaves like petals ready to leave

amber and citron carry through the wind

orchestrated by mechanical gods

and the lights at the crossroads

before I get to go back home.

My simple linen bag deceives me for an instant

as it feels like it carries more than it lets on

as if the avocado I bought in a whim

is as heavy as my home-grown grief.

Green and fleshy the memories are

and the skin grows thick

and the skin darkens and cracks

for a moment these ovals weigh

like cement and obsidian

tied to my waist.

The zoom of a car shreds my attention

and all the ongoing shoppers

wake from a dream

all of us, woven together before

now undone for the next goal

to checkmark from our errand list.

At the bottom of mine

lies difficult rest and reprieve

where I take the fruits

from the depths of my heart,

consume the nourishment

and dispose of the skin

but it all will consolidate

and become a part of me once again.