She darts from
aisle to aisle
with the stride
of an elementary school principal.
Light bulbs
batteries
drywall screws
hand blender.
She listens to the radio
in the car: a documentary
on microfinancing
in Haiti.
She feels good
like she has just
eaten kale.
Banking
groceries
drycleaning
leg wax.
It’s too bad,
she thinks,
you can’t monetize
excellent
parallel parking.
Workout
sign cheques
birthday present for client
shit, forgot toothpaste.
At home
she bounces the baby
but he won’t sleep.
Her husband says
nothing.
She tries to sing softly
but her voice comes out
loud.
She wants to explain
that she has gotten so much
done and now she is
running,
can’t you see she can’t stop running,
there is a tidal wave
of efficiency
chasing her.
But she can’t find the quiet
where those sorts of words
are kept
so she just
keeps
bouncing.