Eve, Grocery Shopping
She likes to taste the grapes before she buys them—
The green ones or the purple ones,
It doesn’t matter.
It’s the only way to separate
The sour from the sweet,
The paradise from the blasé.
You only get so many grapes in life,
Why waste them on what doesn’t bring you pleasure?
She thinks of this while plucking one
From the bunch, a moon drop
That she slips between her lips.
For her, there is no shame in larceny
When its done beneath florescent lights.
She bursts the moon drop with her tongue
And lets its sweetness gush
Down her throat. Not bad, she thinks,
Though she’s had better fruit before.
She steals another piece just to be sure
Before moving on to something else:
The cotton candies, then the concords,
Before settling on a bunch of rubies.
The real myth is this: everything belongs
To someone else. You fill your shopping cart
With days and desires,
And before you go off into the sun,
You pay the price—
Without ever tasting heaven on your lips.