i went to the store to buy the future.
hunger is at least a hole that can
be climbed through unlike another feeling
like dread which just requires cement.
i walk the ghost the family dog
to the dressing room where we try
being a fresh gender for once.
the sun downloads & i upload a picture
of my fury to the clouds. thunder. autumn.
at the grocery store the eggs dance
& say, "prize inside." i don't fall for their tricks.
i know there's just a dead chicken.
flowers for tongues. tongues for a lawn.
there are so many flavors of microchip
these days. my friends are glamor programs.
my friends are artists & gods.
i wouldn't mind having something inserted
into the back of my neck if it meant
i could always taste butter cream frosting
or maybe honey. doesn't it always come back
to the bees? to manna? to a desert
no one can walk out of. i buy the cheapest kind
because that's what i watched my mom do.
pennies are pennies even if the faces
vacate & all that's left is copper.
the self check out is attended by dark matter.
i nod & try to make it seem like
i'm not trying to steal a kiwi fruit.
there's not enough ways to play dumb anymore.
the night has spider legs.
my mother puts me in the shopping cart
wheels squeaking as we look for lunch meat.