peppers, turkey, lime juice–
play grocery roulette, negotiating
rows stacked high with canned peaches,
bagged coffee, off-brand baby wipes,
chicken breasts. Or a tent and slippers.
Knowing I’ll never complete my list, I gather
Brussels sprouts gone AWOL
from their plastic prisons, wander past
sides of salmon, pink as daybreak,
silver scales flashing, tool around
towers of sparkling water.
I exit with a papaya.
I Google “How to eat a papaya,”
which I find is cut
like a melon, flesh reminiscent
of a Tequila Sunrise served
at a dive bar on South Padre Island
one ancient spring break.
An unfortunate finger flick
unfolds a list
of papaya-related queries:
”What is the best time to eat papaya?”
“Does papaya make you fat?”
“Is eating papaya at night good?”
“What happens if we drink milk after eating papaya?”
Good God–what does happen
if we drink milk after eating papaya?
Perhaps I should never have purchased this papaya.
I scoop out round black seeds, reminiscent of roe,
which I have also never eaten, but which
may find its way into my basket next time.