I miss valium trips through the rainbow section
at my local green grocer. Bombarded senses
color surprises bright greens, deep reds, funny
oranges, muted grays’ and eggshell whites.
Before alt-facts this adventure always had a fair
ending. I would gaze at Fujis’ or Galas’ until
lust overwhelmed me. Taking some, (“oh, one more”)
trapping them in a see-through bag.
Their colors continued to mesmerize. I barely looked
At prices. Red Delicious were more expensive than
Green Granny Smiths. One dollar forty-seven cents
Or one dollar ninety-seven cents.
When I go to the check out the scanner recorded the
correct names of my desire and the previously stated
prices for my ecstasy. In the Factual World. Today
I carried apples and the scanner told me potatoes.
Muddy brown potatoes? Really? Well the scanner said
It doesn’t matter. I just add whatever name and price
regardless. It doesn’t matter. Truth is fluid, random
On the way home, I stopped by my doctor’s office on the
11th floor of a big building. When I got in the elevator
I paused, trembled, took another valium, and pressed
Retired university professor quietly tending my garden and a herd of feral cats. My poetry has been published in Voces de la Luna, The San Antonio Express-News, and two annual anthologies Quirk, and Borderless.