Brown potatoes
(he let me pick
the perfect ones)

from the farmer’s market
down the street

and firm
red apples
the kind you know
will taste
(once you bite into them)
exactly as they do
in your mind

you walk home
with these
and other treasures

spend some time
reading that book
that you’ve meant
to finish
for years now

you get into
the shower
telling yourself
you will take time

because it’s Saturday
and you never take time
and today is about
taking your time

but you stop short
halfway through
soap in your eyes

you realize
you have been humming

and you laugh
(something you do
about as often
as you hum)

In your bathrobe after
you run to the desk
to write down
the poem that
came to you then
and soapy
and laughing
like a song

You plan to make lunch
(and you will take time)
you’re excited about the
newest recipe you’ll attempt

thanks to the things
you decided to buy
on a whim
this morning
at the farmers market

You wonder
if you’ll stop short
(knife in hand)
as you cut potatoes
and chop up apples
suddenly laughing
because you realize
you have been humming.


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