Crossing the Desert

Sunlight shines through the window on her plastic Aldi bag

…facing front…moving forward…traveling backwards into canned quicksand.

Behind her stands a man at the door

…his plastic Save-a-Lot bags on the floor, parked between black-laced Nike’s.

Sitting across from them both, I got a plastic bag too

…mine more upscale, got upsaled, no drawstring.

Black and white pictured for all to see

Santa Maria della Pace.

Roman church where no man is a treasure island

…roamin’ streets filling seats

On this bus

All of us

Riding back to the desert

Where no food is grown; no food is sold.

‘Cept day old doughnuts and double D cups from behind bullet proof glass

Inside the same place you can buy gas.

Nourishment goes: Flamin’hot Cheetos extinguished by turquoise waters

Syrupy sweet inside toxic plastic bottles.

Tossed by the wayside

Waist size gianormus

Hail damaged asses sausage cased into spandex and lace

Spilling onto two and a half priority seats

Morbidly obese

Yet horribly malnourished

Diabetes is a peace treaty for population control

Survival of the fittest. Don’t you see this?

He’ll get a kidney.

You’ll get dialysis.

Some get apples.

Others get the serpent.

Nicole Bond is a writer and performance poet who is pleased to have her voice included again in the South Side Weekly Lit Issue.