Grocery List

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—those instant coffee pouches made by
	the corporation us leftists pretend
	to hate

—that cereal that rakes the roof of your mouth
	but makes you nostalgic for childhood

—that can of mixed nuts that doesn’t contain
	peanuts because if you buy one
	that contains peanuts then it will
	contain about 70% peanuts because
	peanuts are cheaper, yes, but don’t taste
	anywhere as good as cashews,
	walnuts, almonds, and those little
	green ones

—lactose-free milk because the ability to digest
	lactose is mostly a Northern European
	trait and you’re not Northern European

—100% wheat bread, though you distrust
	anything that claims to be 100%
	of anything because it reeks
	of religious, political, and cultural
	fundamentalism

—grape jelly, even though you read somewhere
	that the FDA allows a jar of jelly to have
	like 27 insect parts, and that’s disgusting,
	but all of us will be eating crickets, ants,
	and mealworms after the apocalypse,
	so maybe you should think of eating
	slightly infested jelly as practice
	for an unpredictable future
	
—natural peanut butter, and yes, this contradicts
	your opinion of peanuts, but peanut is
	to peanut butter as tomato is to ketchup

—AAA batteries, but wait, no, maybe you need
	AA batteries, shit, okay, buy both types

—a dozen eggs, but don’t check to see if
	any of them are broken because you
	like to gamble and it’s like playing
	the lottery or, God, don’t say this
	aloud, it’s like playing twelve
	simultaneous games of chicken

—a box of those cheap cigars, which you
	never smoke but purchase maybe twice
	a year because they remind you
	of your late father

—a bag of toilet paper rolls even though
	they are less expensive at Target
	but you have no plans to go
	to Target anytime soon so you
	might as well buy them here

—a pack of Big League Chewing Gum
	because it reminds you
	of that walk-off home run
	that Joe Carter hit to win
	the World Series in 1993

—a bouquet of tulips to put on your
	mother’s grave, though she’s not
	dead, so you lean the flowers
	against your mother’s front door
	at 2 a.m so they fall into the house
	in the morning when she goes out
	to grab the morning paper, and
	you’ve done this maybe a dozen
	times since your father died,
	and it makes your mother laugh
	and mourn and feel beloved

—make another list of everything
        you’ve ever forgotten to put on
       a grocery list and that will remind
       you of all the times you loved
      somebody who didn’t love you back.