The kind of day
when doors close
on my fingers
and a small angry being
hacksaws
on my lower back.
My forehead puckers
my mouth is thin
like the rim
of a tin can.
I note with brazen self-pity
that the grocery store
is out of the diapers I need
and then I see it
on my list
at least ten times
between apples
and quinoa
in your handwriting:
kisses for Pete.
I laugh out loud
and a middle-aged man who earlier
had annoyed me by taking
the last cart
says I seem to find
tofu very funny
and I notice that he has kind
eyes and a birth mark
across most of his face.
We agree
the beauty of
tofu
is that is takes on
the flavours around it
and we pledge that today
tofu is
a riot.