On Grocery Shopping

What an adventure!  At least the closest aspect of adventure than can venture into a student's daily routine!  Going grocery shopping with your family...  Now here's a story to tell!  Last night, I was trying to avoid doing as much work as possible when my mother stumbled into the back yard, where I was happily lounging while reading an assignment.  "I am going grocery shopping," she announced.  Naturally, since I generally detest my mother and avoid any such communication with her, I replied, "Good, get me what I wrote on my list." I must be fair in saying that since I was a little darling girl, I have not set foot in a supermarket with my mother by my side.  She loathes it as much as she loathes me, only because of the fact that I seem to grab and bring to the cart that which I find most appealing to my taste (generally, everything).  Since she started avoiding me, my mother has gone grocery shopping alone and completely ignored any list of any sort that I ever made.  "I can never find anything you write down!" she yammered.  "If you want something, come with me." 

I was flabbergast!  Did she truly say that?  Did she mean it?  Well, I did not even stop to think!  I got dressed and flew down the stairs and was in the car before she even knew it!  (With my list prepared, might I add.  Oh, and I was also very much prepared to add things to it, if I fancied.)  When we were both securely inside her Champagne Kia Sorento, my mother drove us first to Ponte Fresco, where we proceeded to stuff our faces with salads, and from there continued towards our favorite Guaynabo supermarket.  The way there was bumpy and dangerous, mostly because my mother does not acknowledge that she has no idea how to drive.  When she should be going at thirty-five miles an hour, the meter is marking sixty!  But when, on the freeway, she can go at sixty, she drives at her happy pace of twenty miles an hour.  Utterly exasperating!

However, we arrived about fifteen minutes from Garden Hills.  Of course, my mother believes her Kia Sorento to be a Lexus, so she double-parks in the farthest possible parking space available.  She does not mind if we get mugged or that my feet fall off of my legs from all the walking we do...as long as no one touches her precious Kia, everything will be alright!  So when we finished walking from the farthest parking space available, there being hundreds closer, we take an unused cart, and fling towards the entrance.  What cold!  The fruit section is absolutely devastating because it is always freezing!  And if you have my luck, you wear shorts when it is cold and long pants when it is devastatingly hot!  Oh the irony of my pants!

Funny thing about the fruit section...It always has the fruits that you do not want...ginger, in February...really?  Mushrooms...they aren't even fruits nor vegetables!  Why are they here?  Of course, being Puerto Rico, this supermarket never has blueberries, strawberries nor raspberries.  In fact, if you came precisely to pick up any berry at all, you will be severely disappointed.  Luckily for me, my favorite fruit is always stocked!  Washington Gala Apples are the highest and most amazing fruit there is!  And whilst I am striving to pick the most perfect grapes available, I notice...I am all alone!  My mother, being the exasperated person that she is, left me trotting alone in the fruit section and proceeded by herself to the meats!  Repulsive woman! 

I trail after her throughout the whole supermarket, aisle by aisle every time she leaves me alone to proceed to her own shopping.  Even when I was a kid, I had nightmares of being left alone in K-Mart because she got sick of waiting and suddenly left.  Luckily, this time I managed to find her every time she tried to leave.  However, the one spot where I am the one waiting while she scurries along is in the candle aisle.  My mother has an interesting obsession with glade scented candles.  Our pantry is stuffed to the rim with candles and smelling stuff!  I swear, when she's old and senile, I am going to pull an Agatha Christie scented salts  on her!  That way, humanity will be at peace once more...

Finally, we proceed towards the checkout.  Of course, only three checkout stations are available, one being the ten items or less which we could not possibly have passed, giving that my list alone had about    fifteen items...doubled.  So, we wait.  And wait.  My mother looks at me and I at her...we have nothing to say.  I comment on how many things we have, she states that it must be a two-hundred dollar grocery expenditure.  I laugh and she states that she will never go with me again to the supermarket.  My answer, "That's why I took two of everything!"

We check-out, ride our fifty-pound cart up towards the farthest parking, unload.  It was a good experience which I will never repeat, unfortunately.  My mother will surely kill me next time!  And I will surely cry in pain of her rejection. 

To my mother, I love you even if you suck. 

June 27th, 2010

My darling, 

I lay on my bed, hungry and exhausted.  And while the wind blows outside and my parents bicker inside, I can think only of you (and of how hungry I am--I eat plenty).  My dear, you are the thought that circles my mind always.  You are the rock on which I have chosen to stand.  I love you dearly and always will.

Yours always and forever,
Vivi

Thy Breath's Thief

My sweetest love, let me be thy breath’s thief

For this my sweet I must admit treason

Thy bark will sure take leave in my mad reef

Thy zeal will cease upon change of season

My mother’s air cast on my own will baffle

Wrinkles, distraught in the unloved visage

Perplexed mind, counts in time’s amorous battle

Subsides when clear is perished torn carnage

But thou say thy heart will always be pure

Regardless of alterations in fairness

Thou beliefs make thee an entrepreneur

In between us never an open crevasse

If these beliefs thou does simply defy

We shall never say our last goodbyes

Intimidating Thoughts

The reverie rose

And the sounds

Flooded

With silver

Bickering

And merry

Quacking

Changes

Eight times

The knavery

Of this

Intoxicating

Dream,

Unfulfilled

The turn

Of the

Flowing seas

Conveying

Heat and ice

Spices

The vice

Wicked dreams

Are wicked times

Under the Christmas Tree

*

Dear

Santa Clause,

I have been a very

Very good boy this year

What I want this Christmas is

World Peace, end to famine & hunger

My mommy told me to ask for prosperity

She is always saving money and she doesn’t give

It away like daddy does to strange men in the traffic

They will only use her money for bad but dad doesn’t know

As for me, Santa, can I have thecoolestthingintheworld?????????

An IPad

Pretty

Please?

Thankyou  
Santa Clause
                                Sincerely, 
                                Generation

                                 Z.                                                  

I Don't Shave My Legs in the Winter

The winter cold

Causes goose bumps

In my limbs

I bring the water

To a boil

Yet no difference

Ever made

Shaving

With goose bumps

Increases inflammation

Decreases beautification

And stings,

Stings like a thousand

Mosquito bites

No matter gel or soap,

Conditioner or moisturizer

The results are the same:

Red, flaky—not silky smooth

There is no logic to it

Sin to shave in winter

I become a natural savage!

Hairs,

Everywhere!

I have

Mane for legs

I never

Shave them

In the winter

Sisterly Affection

I was learning

To read

Back then

When a

Dispute

Fired

Among sisters,

Friends

I was little

But I tried to

Kill you

I squeezed

Waiting for

The air

To run out

Of you

You kicked

Screamed

And finally

Broke off

You poked

My eyes

And threatened

Parental supervision

“I will

Never again”

Spoke I

Never again

Did I

Ashamed

I tried to

Murder

I never

Spoke

Never

Confessed

Until today

A decade

And a few

Years later

I love

My sister

But

Sometimes

I just

Want

To

Kill her.

Green Liberation

Foot covers

Thread Gently

Upon prickling

Green needles

Then make

Their way

Down to

Little

Square islands

That crucify

Themselves

Sprawling

From the ground

Brown earth

That continues

To the sky

Carrying billions

Of tiny green skins

To the cheesy

Sphere above

They dance

As gravity

Unfolds

And begets

Their green

Liberation

If our skin

Were leaves

We would

Reach

The blinking

Illuminations

From beyond

Nonsense

Hog wash!

This despondent humanity

Grips the anniversary

Of the earthly

Reverie

The smog muffled

In the moon

And the

Starry night

Is not starry

Anymore

Poaching

Antelopes

For sinews in

Pollution

The empty earthly

Vase suffers for

Peremptory love

Happiness polluted,

Muddled into

Smithereens

Yet the Earth

Always finds

A way

To make our

Intrepidness 

Affront reality

Revenge

Is earthly

Caught in a Dream

I looked into her evil eyes: you fraud

What loud noise yonder do I hear? Music?

Not so, it is wicked beat of applaud

Mockery of my own career, how sick

Erupting screams filled the ears of the dreamer

All spoke the same ingratitude:  I lied

Every rant now reduced to sole screamer
Their wails of aloof dread preceded and died

At no time did I ever foretell futures

I am a fake, a fraud; admit only dreams

The spectators aware of my failure

Unknown tarots fill my reverie streams

My fate in life, the next as well, is false

Filled with the bliss confused steps of a waltz

Marie Angie

Let the erratic night judge me if it may

As the witch that provoked necromancer

I have proclaimed powers; I show, you pay

Eating your heart out, oh avid cancer

Angel of death, seeking my one revenge

I stumble in the life I seek, hazards…

Introspection surges: the crash, I cringe

I saw that night the rush of skin blizzards

Lying in the hospital bed, mourning

She came across to me saying softly

Gently wiping wet tears speaking warning

“You must use this in your favor, Marie.”

I lie to my clients every now and then

I am unable to gaze the truth in men 

Bury Your Secret

Bury your own secret in the wet ground
She runs and the wind blows like fire
Hides through the night while there awaits her hound
Tonight widow made her husband expire

Red hair ignited with fury spoke he
Of unfinished habits, unwritten life
Covered in red, death to John M. Dupree
Thousand bolts of lightning in one lone strife

Bury your own secret yonder, Ginger
Work for tips that pay the rent and forget
Hear your father’s foul breath at night whisper
Behind in the black ground, never regret

In a life full deep of incompetence
Ginger tended to live in arrogance

My One

He is to me the love bountiful tender

His face covered in acute black stubble

Busker who joins my night is my lover

Brings with him a touch so loving, feeble

It is clear he was destined for the greatness

Sleek August wind rush, fated wonder

Bundles for sweet Latin prodigiousness

Ruined bonds that create avid thunder

Nude whispers like the sun shines at midnight

Strange person who sings with chords of alloy

Grass falls toward the sky moonless sunlight

Chanted touch, he is a magic Yule toy

Controversial man of thoughts lost in skill

Love so deep it fulfills my greatest thrills

Droopy Clown

Stupid clown

Falls down

On the tip

Of his

Ceramic

Hand

He is

A pallid

Angelic

Blonde

Heart-shaped

Cheeks

Of peach

Masquerade

You, white

Twinkle toes

Up in the air,

Think

You know

Me?

You are

Just the

Gloom

Of treasures

Past

You are

The remains

Of carefree

Times,

Chippering

Sighs

Happy,

Never empty

How

I miss

Thee.

Great commencement

Strong discussion

Weak ending

That

Is all

You are.

Nothingness

Absent,

My ocean

Of truth,

I feel not,

I want not.

Coldness,

No passion

No drive

To command

My thoughts

Of appetite

Nothing…

No lust for

The hunger

 Of ambition

I am abstract

I am numb

I am a particle

No emotions

No senses

No animalistic

Needs

Never provoked

Always cold

Nothing mutual

Always alone