Grandma’s fish
Thus, I thought of my childhood
picking a toy car from the shelf
of a toy store,
removing it from the jammed highway
along with an irritated driver.
of course I wasn’t the one paying.
she’s my little grandma,
choosing to go to the market
by foot.
It seemed a long journey,
and the poor fish struggled,
flipping in a crinkled plastic bag,
making groan of sizzle.
a morning of light rain washes down
the autumn leaves
And I sit dully here
20061022
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