I stand in the aisle with the spices on one side and the pasta and noodles
On the other and I turn around once and then again
And look at the list that is in my left hand along with my
Wallet and phone that then beeps and it's about what
A protest march, another death in a queue, gas shortages
I don't even know anymore if anything more could go wrong in this
Country that they've burnt to the ground with their corrupt
Incompetent don't-give-a-fuck leadership such a joke
But wait why am I in this aisle with the spices, do I need spices
I don't think so
A trolley first and a person follows, turning into this same aisle
He stops near the sauces, ah yes, I needed a can of mushroom
Canned food is safe, you can keep them for much longer
The canned food is in front of the sauces, mostly a luxury now
We mostly buy essentials, even though we can afford a few luxuries
There is so much guilt when so many can't eat or feed their families
When we are looking at an uncertain future where we may have nothing
To eat ourselves
Just money printed, valueless, the soil on land inherited
My mother walks up to me, complains about the price of fish
A kilo of something or the other
Almost what therapy cost two years ago
I need to go back, have the slime and fog and dust and cobwebs
In my head cleaned and removed
But for now, we walk away with our can of mushrooms
Some vegetables and a loaf of bread
She asks me about dinner and I shrug because talking
Is more than I can manage right now
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