behind the supermarket

Hi there,

This week I’m sharing a poem inspired by two things: one, personal experience; and two, an Urdu couplet from the poet Kabir I read in Ram Dass’s book Be Love Now. Translated, it goes something like this:

“I live in this world, but I do not desire anything of this worldI am passing through the marketplace, but I am not a purchaser.”

I hope you enjoy how my American punk-informed sensibilities reinterpreted this message.

i am pissing behind the supermarket
but i ain’t buying shit.
i eat my packed lunch in the food court
and hear clerks whistle curses as they work.

i smuggle dark chocolate from the bulk bins
and pretend to peruse sales as i chew.
if the managers catch me on camera
i wear the guilty eyes i’m supposed to
and when they turn their polos, mutter Fuck you.

you’re doing your job very well,
minding the store in a sea of hungry poor.
mind you, i’m not one of them,
i am one of the lucky ones
whose mothers were sold on the upswing
sharpening their stones and painting their signs.

the riots are coming
though you can’t admit it yet
while we ride stolen shopping carts
into the dirt-poor sunset.