Buying for Two

With you, the axle-rachet

I spin around,

my fingers twitching on cantaloupe,

pinching bloated cukes,

pinching your soft bulge--

pocket, without drinking whiskey,

risking trapped claw in your maw,

the crab’s catch.

Then your nose skittishly lowers,

just over cart’s edge, you zip

slish-slosh slippering

down the alleyways,

kamikaze toward fruit loops,

milk duds and cock-a-doodle crackers,

snaps, pops and chips.

My wonder boy.

My bread-and-butter man, five spice

for relish and soapsuds

for the ring-around-the-collar holler

price check from clerk. Crowd

never alters our balance,

never hush-mushes the laughter

never cancels the clatter

of my axle-rachet spin at stop and shop.

Afterward, all I know--

we got the goods.