~ ceramics class
~ writing class
~ start blog/newsletter
~ write cookbook
You are an unhappy thing, cursed with legs,
every step carrying the love who left, the love you left,
the job lost, the mountain of low, the mounting lack.
But your legs grow tired of holding it, so you transfer it
to your head. Then your head grows tired, so you delegate it
to your shoulders. Then they are tired & you are tired
& you don’t know what to do but replant it in your legs,
your feet, & walk it to the supermarket.
So, I am at the grocery store because I feel sad.
I feel sad because nobody is in love with me.
Nobody is in love with me, but everybody loves me.
Everybody loves me because I'm good at making people feel good.
I'm good at making people feel good, because I've had a lot of practice on myself.
Practice on myself because I feel sad a lot.
I feel sad a lot, but when I'm make people feel good, I feel good for a little bit.
I feel good for a little bit and then I get lonely.
I get lonely and I am uncomfortable in my lonely.
In my lonely at the grocery store I practice trying to make myself feel good by pretending I'm a regular person, buying her groceries, not a very sad person trying not to cry.
Crying gives me a headache.
Headaches makes me want to crawl into bed, and crawling into bed is what sad people do.
What sad people do when they are lonely looks a lot like me at the grocery store.
In my lonely at the grocery store I feel sad, but a I look just like everybody else, while picking out avocados and lemons.
Items nobody refers as "comfort food".
Comfort food makes me want to crawl into bed.
To crawl into bed reminds me of two things:
I am sad and I am alone.
I am alone at the grocery store, moving slow in the condiment aisle.
Everybody knows in the condiment aisle it is perfectly acceptable to stand around for too long.
Stand around for too long and I will begin to tap dance.
'Tap dance lonely in the grocery store' is a fantastic name for a book.
I think to myself while waiting in line to reach the cashier. The cashier seems surprised when I asked her how her night is going.
Her night is going 'okay', she says.
She says nothing else except cash, credit or debit.
She waves goodbye.
Goodbye is the saddest word I know.
The saddest word you know is my name.
My name walks around at the grocery store and feels less sad.
Less sad because at the grocery store at least nobody knows there's nobody in love with me.