The Motherfuckin’ Broccoli

When you’re generalized anxiety disorder
looks like
buying broccoli from your local Sprouts.

I walk in,
phone in hand
in the case I forget my short list of three items
because you see
this is a short trip
an
in and out trip
a,
there’s nothing we gotta stress about here trip
don’t even need to freak out about the shopping cart cuz
it’s a grab a basket kinda trip
so

I grab a basket
but only after
I grab some bagels
not on the list but I promise me
I’ll thank me later
see,
we have
chicken, broccoli, milk, and dry shampoo if I can find it
but I can’t find it
so we have chicken, broccoli, milk,
plus some bagels.

Chickens first, thin cut thighs
can’t ever buy the first item so I grab the one from behind
I think this is how my mother raised me
or this is OCD
I guess it doesn’t really matter
as I make my way to the broccoli
but find,

it’s not alone
so I grab the bag above it’s resting home
do it slowly like I’m busy
and she is digging through the broccoli
and I watch her
wonder
what are her standards to choosing?
and have I ever been doing it right?

but I don’t want to impede
make way to the apples
pick four
but not the best kind
notice the last one is bruised
but god damn, if I over stay my visit
so I make my way back

but the broccoli
is a fucking social butterfly
whispering sweet nothings into someone else’s ear
and this is round two
and I want nothing more than to disappear

so I make my way to the milk
knowing damn well this is the last item on the list
cuz this is short trip
a no stress strip
a basket trip
so I get a half gallon,
can’t drag around the real thing kinda trip

then go back for round three
but damn
the mother fucking broccoli
has a hell of a problem with lonely

so I grab the bag above it’s resting place
do it slowly like I’m busy

and I watch him
wonder
what are his standards to choosing?
and have I ever been doing it right?

as I take my sweet time
and a window emerges
like God,
is parting the broccoli seas
saying it’s finally got some time for me and I take it
pick one,
then two
and that’s all I need
but then I notice her
take a bag from above the broccoli trees

and I stick around
want to see how other people deal
with the broccoli throw-down

so I dig for more,
and she swoops in
like a real broccoli VIP
doesn’t even look at me
digs through all the broccoli trees

I pick a third one
though I don’t need to
and when I look back on that moment I swear I got only stem

learn later
that’s actually the broccoli standard

you want less tree truck and more leaves
but I paid for tree trunk anxieties
as I concluded my
broccoli shopping spree
carried the bags in
but then skipped the meal
to jot this poetry

and isn’t that how always it goes?
starving artists
finding everything as prose.