Greasy, used, with
goods. Baked goods.
I ate good. Good I
for the sake of
protein, power, energy
I need to proceed. Indeed.
At a speed kind of fast
I pass other consumers
to get to a fresh bag for
And a thought comes to mind:
“I eat at Whole Foods because
most of my (Black) people cannot,
do not fathom it, are not bougie.
Filled bag. Food. Enough.
A blessing. Empowering.
Greasy bag of Whole Foods
goods unlike greasy plates
filled with a mother’s chicken
she bought in the ‘hood
at a less expensive store. I
store these thoughts in my mind,
I pause in time to times the amount
of money I spend at Whole Foods.
Times that by travel, turns, waiting
at the stop light, waiting in line
just to find an empty brown bag
to bag the food I am looking for.
The bag says “This bag is made
from recycled paper.”
I consider the food desserts and
food apartheid People of Color are
experiencing in my city, my town.
In capitalism, and in unaccessible
food costs, we drown