Into the fluorescent rough country
headlong into bulks of flesh
impatient to outspend me
and who wouldn’t fold real quick
under the weight of America’s sales and specials.
I believed then I didn’t
that I was different than I am
in my own skin in this infinity
mirror, instructed such
to seduce myself, to go on.
I am sorry
about the space I take up
about the panic
running around my aspect and my hunger
although it’s nothing
these racks of acrylic winter apparatus
won’t dazzle out of my head.
I’ll take several. I’ll take fistfuls.
I’ll tuck it into my mouth at night to keep me quiet.
About this poem:
"I wrote this poem because I find myself terribly overwhelmed by the experience of shopping, by all the stuff and all the people, and all the people in a frenzy over all the stuff. I get confused and I can’t breathe and I can barely remember who I am or what I want. And then I buy something I don’t need."
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