Through the turns
and road crossings
that lead to the park,
kerbside faces appear,
merge tight mouthed
into the grocery parade,
bags bump n’ bruise,
plastic handles strain
a Japanese hand torture.
Considering the effort
involved;
such heavy bundles
of salad ingredients
to be arranged platefully later,
a lighter leafed lunch
seems ironic.
Maybe a matter of balance,
you are what you eat,
but also when, where
and how you choose to dine.
Shaded bench solitude
has its kiosk sandwich perks,
then amble towards home,
shoppers on the left of me,
shoppers on the right.
I’ll join the vegetable patch
shuffle tomorrow
when the park’s closed.
