the poet’s construction Poem, by Vipassana, at My poetic side

it’s dusk as I
enter the grocery

a jug of distilled
water in my cart

in the cereal aisle
Octavio Paz is

constructing a
small boat

with cereal
boxes and asks

Can we ever
escape this brutal

dream? the air
smells of tequila

and musty pages
of an old book

I say I’m just here
for oat milk and

corn flakes—as my
cart drifts briefly

away from me and
he rushes toward me

kisses my forehead
and leaves the store

tears streaming down
his weary face

Comments +

sorenbarrett March 25th, 2026 03:46
A short snapshot in time without explanation it briefly dips us into reality only to be awakened from the dream by a slap. Very nice

To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.