A misadventure |
I I crawl out of bed like a zombie The feeling in my stomach screams at me, "Peanut butter and jelly!" I walk into the kitchen half naked The pantry door groans at me I pull out the jar of peanut butter Creamy of course. Smooth, gentle. I grab the bag of bread My heart fills with joy As I read Sarah's name. My feet drag to the fridge, Which opens with a burst of cold The temperature could have been an idicator... An omen. Because my gaze inside the container reveals-- An absence. An empty shell. I pick up the jar that held the jelly Grape jelly, my favorite. First, disappointment creeps into my ears Then sadness in my heart... And then a terror drops to my feet. Realization comes to me. The realization of a compromise A trade off That may not be worth that sweet substance But alas, I take up my shoes And I exit the door Wal-Mart awaits me. II The car rumbles to a stop My eyes fearfully scan the parking lot To my dismay, I see many feet Many bodies. Many people. A hot sweat forms under my arms And I take a deep breath. A warrior plunging into the horde. I open the door, And put my foot on the pavement... Fear captures me and I pull back inside Closing the door. I compose myself In one swift motion-- I jump out of the car, Lock it before closing the door, A war scream exits my lungs... I calmly walk through the door, Though my hands feel clammy and cold. I focus, scanning the signs in the aisles. I turn down the sandwich aisle, Wishing life could be more simple. Avoiding a small child Who won't look where he's going. I find the section that has been tugging at my heart. The jelly smiles at me from the shelf. The variety is endless So many colors! So many flavors! An evil suddenly spills over me... Indecision. I stand for a minute, Narrowing down the possibilities. After the second minute, The grape and the black-berry argue in my brain. I begin speaking aloud, "Grape, black-berry, grape, black-berry..." A man in a wheel chair stares at me. He thinks I don't notice him, But my pores scream as his eyeballs cover my body. I grap the closest jar of grape jelly and make haste to the check-out lanes. III All of the lines contain five or more people Frustration and anger boil inside of me. I decide on the third lane, The people seem to have less than others. But as I get closer to the belt, My blood yells at the cashier, Her five inch nails move slowly over the buttons, She sluggishly scans each of a bald man's items. My leg moves impatiently, But my stomach reminds me why i'm standing here. At last my turn comes, And I thank the Lord that I have only one item. The woman unnecesarily reads me my total. The same number that is displayed on the screen for my own viewing. I force my hand into my pocket To find the three dollars I need, When a feeling of hopelessness Comes over my body. There is no money waiting in my pocket... Tears well in my glands, All is lost. I sadly check the other pocket. Just in case... VICTORY!!! A five dollar bill is folded in the corner! I grab the bill with vigor And place it in the woman's hand. Confusion crosses her face, But I care not, For I am victorious. She hands me the remainder of the money, I give her a dollar out of joy, And I run toward the exit. Unfortunately, I did not notice, A janitor cleaning the bathroom. As I joyously skip to the exit, My foot glides across water, The world turns upside down, As my spine crashes to the floor. Pain surges throughout my limbs, But my concern casues my eyes to search for the jelly, Which is safely in the bag. The janitor laughs at me, As though he had planned it all out. But it doesn't matter anymore, I'm nearly home free. IV My feet cross the threshold of my house. I limp from the pain in my vertebrae Into my kitchen. I place the bag on the stove, And eagerly pull out the jar. I pull out the other necessary items, And begin construction on my masterpiece. The most glorious of constructs. Worthy of noteriety. I take the first bite. And the joy travels down my throat. But a parched feeling soon develops. So I travel to the cabinet, And grab a glass for milk. Opening the fridge again, I cry out in despair. Again, something's missing. No milk in my fridge. |