gas station

you walked me down an aisle of the grocery store on 58th and 9th at noon on a tuesday

we had to do two full laps of the the entire store because i kept forgetting what i was
going to be forgetting to eat

you held on to the front end of my cart and you led the way making sure it was my hands
that cradled around packaged raw chicken and loaves of whole wheat bread

i managed to not break down, not to cry in front of the children drooling in front of the
lucky charms

you managed to soothe me by looking at me, your blue eyes allowing me to not think
about all the food around me, about the sorry excuse for a breakfast that i had, about
having to remind myself that a grocery store is a gas station and i can’t run without fuel

instead i could think of you and your hands clinging to my unshapely body and your
ability to eat without gaining a pound

but most importantly how i was still here with you and that i had someone to help me carry
my grocery bags all the way home