I am listening to cans of peas

singing to themselves, I am

listening to packets of pasta shake

from side to side. Potato chips rustle

in discontent, dried beans rattle in

plastic bags, restless at

first and then in harmony.

I walk through aisles and a small hard peach sings

I am from Argentina, I travelled

all this way to end up in your belly!

Polished tile squares gleam in dingy

expectation. Rollicking cart wheels

dig grooves in the bread aisle where

you take a quick squeeze –

loaves are flirtatious and like this sort of thing –

tortillas flap in the breeze,

tomatoes roll in a line,

avocados leap from displays, landing

heavily splat splat one on top

of another, like lemmings – or like

what we perceive of as lemmings

(because I understand they don’t really behave

as we think!).

Toothpaste sings in minty freshness,

Shampoo drips in little streams spelling

out words that make no sense,

slippery words that smudge and slide.

Toilet paper rolls unwind themselves in

party loops


by Cher Bibler