once garden fresh

the frenzy at
the salad bar
is beyond me.
the thrashing
at lettuce
and eggs, hard
boiled, the
round balled
burgundy colored
beets afloat
in what, beet
juice? carrots
shredded and
ignored along
with celery
and cabbage,
why bother. but
the croutons
are everywhere,
as are the bacon
bits, so soft
and gravely,
the blue cheese
is ripe and dug
into like ice
cream scoops,
diced tomatoes,
and little baby
corn from some
strange world
of tiny things,
creepy little
stalks to say
the least. red
onions, white
onins, sliced
olives, whole
olives, all of
it floating in
a moat of grey
soup. and
then the bottles
of sauce, the
oil and dressings
lined up like
barber shop
bottles. it's a
mess, the sneeze
guard is dripping,
the carnage. it's
a roman orgy of
food, the caligula
of the grocery store.
i just want to
find my plastic
spork and begone.