not hungry

how empty
the basket is, as you walk
through the bright
aisles.
all the cans
and boxes aligned just
so,
by someone
in the early hours.
each peach,
each apple with those
of the same, stacked high,
turned
to face the next hand
that finds them.
there must be something
here you
want to eat.
that you need, must have.
not so.