a poem a day for a year #349

by Amy Turn Sharp


A basket. A bunch of things in it. I'm in the market and I think about what I need. The handwritten list of crackers and cheese. Milk. Spinach. Bread. You pushing me up against a wall. Me running down the street during a rainstorm. Unreliable narrators and white plaster walls. Your hands pulling my hair. Music. All of it at once and I'm certain the clerk tapping and scanning can see inside of my mind. She's sifting through my thoughts and her heart beats so fast in time with mine. She seems uncomfortable. My face is red and I drop all the coins.