Shopping For One

I thought I saw her
in the frozen food aisle,

In the glass door imagery,
but it was just me
attaching meaning

To processed food & freezer meat

It was just me

The same as it was when
I pretended to argue with
myself instead of listening
to the unusual voice of reason
pouring forth from her

Much like the reason she left
in the first place

The reason I argue with myself

In the frozen food aisle.

It would be much easier to yell
at someone to “please move
your fucking cart”
or to ask “where is the Goddamn
baking soda?”

But, instead, the store clerk
laughs, and calls me
Tyler Durden behind my back

Yet I still see her face in the woman
picking produce

I still see her face when I unpack
my lonely groceries,
walk alone up my somber driveway,
and pour my cup of coffee
every morning –
the one I always let get cold

As cold as my
blue-lipped soul…

By Christopher Rupley and Steve Shultz 2015

(This is a collaborative poetic work between myself and the talented (and prolific!) writer/poet Christopher Rupley. Please check out some of his other work by visiting the link above).


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