Left at The Supermarket

as the wind blows in
gathering up our laughter like pennies
or leaves rather

high like wine or mountains
indecisive


in the deep corners of the night
i gasp,
held underwater
to disolve
like freedom
or soap


the road is dark, twisty and full of metaphors

we stumble, words misspent
autistic puzzles left to marinate in misunderstood recipes

hands frantic for a release
and it comes
tidal

to sweep us up
leave us lost
among mangoes and papayas
searching for the meanings of inside jokes

only the self reliant checkout girl knows for sure what we need or where to find it
but she's not dropping anything, groceries or hints she
only looks daggers
at our confusion