cereal aisle 

anything you can dream
can become a box of cereal. anything
you nightmare too. i have found myself
with a spoonful of roaches in the old apartment
where chairs flew out the windows. five more boxes & then
we will be the domino house. shoulder 
to shoulder with a coming catastrophe.
i knock a hole in the aluminum bag & all the pops
come singing. the kellogg man sits
on a pile of corn above my little perfect
sanitarium. in college i used to go to the grocery store
to feel human. i harvested cereal. carts full. 
more than i could ever eat. i think i wanted
to live like a prize inside. i stacked the boxes beneath
my bed. made my own cereal aisle. warplanes
flew overhead. a spoon sleeping in the grain.
i learned the names like doorbells. here is where
the raisins go clutching their sun. if i could
i would have a whole house of cereal. retro cereal
still in the boxes, the morsels turning to dust.
an attempt at eternity in their bonemeal. 
the kellogg man prescribes me a bowl
of everything. sends the crows to 
observe my progress. i eat in front of a television
that does not remember my name. the shopping carts
know where i live. they arrive in the yard.
graze on cardboard & the moon juice.
i try my best to not fill my lack with sugar
& worry but it is all i have ever known. 
if you hold a cheerio up to your eye you can
use it like a hagstone. it'll show you the future. 
when i look i always see bathtubs of milk. 
the shopping carts come inside & browse my aisles.
i lock the door so they can't leave. they whimper
& i feed them handfuls of froot loops.