TRANSACTION

 

Waiting in line Whole Foods market,
the cashier rings up my seven packs
of Adderall. I explain that oftentimes
when I run out of supply & the store
closes, I am unable to leave the house
because my anxiety goes through the roof.
The cashier tells me that it’s not
her business to ask what I’m going to do
with my purchase. She’s a smart gal,
scrupulous. I thank her & laugh
about brewing the tablets
into a chocolate mousse cake.

 

I pay her my dues & she gives
me the change.
 
PYRITE

 

Nobody says the name of what
disgusts them, so
when they ask about you,
She says:
basura,
filth.
 

 

To her— you are the creepy rag doll
with rodent red eyes,
pirated DVD she refuses to buy.

 

To her—-you are a glossy pyrite, pretending
to be gold, nudging & winking,
waiting for her to be cajoled.

 

Soleless zapatos, tapeless cassette,
corroded coins strewn at the bottom
of a pochette.

 

Blacklegged tick,
smearing Lyme at your leisure,
for rubbish
remains rubbish,
not meant to be
treasure.
 
TENANT

 

Coffee-stained lampshades, book-strewn maple desk,
the air: thick & dense —humid, no ventilation,
crumpled, yellow-green mucus
Kleenex tissues fill the wastebasket

 

You lay curled to one corner of the twin bed
fetal position
Tablets: pseudoephedrine, acetaminophen, ibuprofen
line your table

 

Alas, no homemade chicken-noodle soup to bid the unwanted away

 

Not my problem;
I’m only here to collect my rent