Artichoke

Artichoke, ink, 11x14''

Friday night = grocery shopping + art (ichoke).  

The Shucking Station at Kroger

We are participating in an ancient ritual, you and I,

Females in our late 20’s to mid-30’s

in a common task of food preparation

You with your baby slung, rather,

Seated, in the baby-carrier of your cart

(the same sill I would keep my purse on if it didn’t invite theft)

Wearied, standing in this act of labor after our long day of work in the field –

Both in the field of medicine,

I deduce from your blue scrubs.

Quiet, by every reason, because we are strangers

Quiet, I pretend, out of tiredness

And a shared mutual understanding

Of this work to be done to feed ourselves and others.

Caught up in this ancient art

under the fluorescent lights

with the produce trucked in from every corner of the earth

in colorful array behind you.

Any moment the sprayers cheeping their warning

and spraying their gentle mist onto the impossible harvest.

A moment of human closeness I won’t have to face even at the checkout,

except in the event I need to call the attendant.

Soon, you will put your baby in his car seat and drive to suburbia.

I will turn my key and head to my apartment.

Taking out our corn ears,

We will boil water

in our respective homes

in our respective pots

At a temperature that is predictably close to each others’

And to the temperature at which it boiled for

The others who have gone before us and will go after us,

Feeding themselves and others.