In the all-night grocery store            between the local

farmer’s market produce table      and rows of greens

prewashed and packaged         in plastic a few shelves

with fruit from those other          worlds: gold skinned

red-bristled and starred                     sheathed in husks

or pinched and bruised—                 Once I saw a small

strip of cane, its drying                          sugars and high-

priced geometry tagged for               some compost bin

Who hungers for you                                I wanted to ask

Sometimes small birds                  fly in through sliding

doors and careen                                          in the rafters

uncertain of how                                         they got there

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