OVERFILLING MY BASKET WITH GOODIES UNTIL I AM BORN WITHOUT A GENDERED CLUE

The elastic of a waist sticky and

ever flowing like the everlasting

curves of the halved hourglass

of an amber maple syrup bottle

like bart simpson like pinup postcards iced with dust in an attic

teasing patrons on the penguin belly white

metal shelves in aisle 6A of Diake-4-Less Mart:

BAKING NEEDS           CANNED FRUITS/VEGETABLES

GREETING CARDS         SPICES/SUGARS

CLEANING SUPPLIES    PET FOOD

“Have you ever had a fresh-out-the-freezer glass of 

pure, EXTRA VIRGIN orange juice so frothy?

Yet so granular you can feel vaccine-like punctures of each bitty crystal like

colonies of pickled prickled pulp soldiers bobsledding against 

your curved and frost crisped tongue

before they stick a ten point landing atop 

creamed shreds of buttermilk pancake tendons

fuzzing in your digestive lagoon? Like malleable pillars of fat and muscle

Punching through the thick hairs of an olympic pool’s scalp

Like a full rack of sapien ribs spearing unto

 the rusty breasts of an iron maiden?”

Today’s hairdo was inspired by 1998 Lauryn Hill and gargantuan GMO superhero green beans— 

Locs thick with the plum yogurt blood of my heart

and wrapped in tacky gel with the swift turn of my grandmother’s twist

Entrenched with the uninhibited spirit of zami and the 

agitation of my father when I neglect to fry him enough kelewele.

Stomping&Storming through aisles until I am confronted with a

“Ma’am —  do yo uneed help?”

  and a colony of lime green plantains sunbathing in the produce basket I neglected to

acknowledge four walk-arounds before.

Waving a pistol in your face with the unfastened muscle of a red air dancer

Possessing me as I scramble for a vial of olive oil to grant my breasts everlasting life

and you are forced to stretch your

back 

For: me. 

until the pair of dimples embedded between the 

bite size fatty handles of your hips are exposed

below the lettuce hem of your breast and collarbone

clinging(crushing, gripping

 suede top with

the 

trench deep, 

         sweetheart 

neckline drenched in a highlighter hue that

mimics the street lamp-like glow

of the lemonskins

and lettuceheads bobbing together 

in chive green bags knotted tighter at the neck

than a noose around an imprisoned 

and executed 

african pirate’s

neck 

in your mystery machine 

blue 

shopping 

Basket.