apprentice

David Williams

i want to be like the mad Grocer
of applegate.
he stocks his shelves with
what we need:
          shoes, linens,
          bread and wine.

he trades Joe’s jersey milk for
Mrs. Taylor’s cut flowers and
hires the gang kids to
graffiti the store walls with curling
words of every color:

          “fluid”
               “foundation”
          “service”

People stop and stare.

i want to tell you about the Grocer.
how he hands me a pair of socks just as
i remember the cold night before.

i want to be like him,
cleaning my pantry of personal things,
knowing the needs of others,
living in the spaces between loved ones.

i went to the mad Grocer of applegate:
          “i have just the thing for you,
               son,”

he said,
and so in saying,
     he gave it to me.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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Archives: Fall 2010.