There Goes the Budget
The thwarted sensualist
Ran amok on Saturday,
Dashing down the aisles of the grocery
Smelling lemons and fresh tomatoes
Fondling the crackling bags of tea
Reveling in the scent of fresh flowers.
Other stores were hit
By this whirlwind of sensation-seeking
Chairs sat upon
Candies imagined
Bead curtains rattled and bells rung and drums thumped,
Bright colors on the racks
Soft cloths crying out for caressing
Mysterious unguents and pastes and powders
All swept up
In an orgy of the senses.
After, the soft gentle wind
Blew the scent of pines
And the rush of faraway cars
And the ching of windchimes
And the cries of children
Like birds
Through the house.




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