Single

I see her in the market,
pushing her cart, filling
the void with foods for one,
the single servings of
frozen meals, healthy choices,
not a slice of red meat
to be found, but lots of fruits
and vegetables. She's not
unattractive, but wary
of her point in life, unmarried,
no kids. Maybe thirty
or forty, somewhere in
between and pushing through
the store with her list
for the week. Skim milk,
yogurt, sodium free soups,
the reward chocolate bar.
She's wearing sweat clothes,
her hair pulled back into a pony
tail, no make up. The sun
has set and it's cold. She
thinks about where she parked
her car, what she can carry,
how safe it is out there.
She's in no hurry, but it seems
serious, this shopping and her
eyes never look up or away
from the cart, the list, the
shelves. The bright lights
of the store shimmering every-
where, the dulled music
from overhead, playing
something familiar, making it
all feel like a surreal dream, one
she'll have again and again
as she strolls down the aisles
that have no altar at the end.