Meriwether Clarke is a poet and essayist living in Los Angeles. Her work has recently been seen in The Michigan Quarterly Review, Prairie Schooner, Gigantic Sequins, The Superstition Review, The Journal, Prelude, Memorious, Juked, and elsewhere. She holds degrees in poetry from Northwestern University and UC Irvine’s Programs in Writing.
LATE CAPITALISM BLUES
The grocery store is where lonely people
go at night. We skim the aisles like nets
on a pool
not looking for much besides the touch
of a stranger’s shoulder
brushed against ours. I can’t say why I think
this will happen
if I stand beside a chip display for just
enough time.
But when I do, there is some small pleasure
in the way
fluorescents shine on cellophane bags.
It’s not
that different than when the parking lot light
catches my hair
as I slouch toward my car. A man nearby winks
and I, too,
am something to hide his solitude behind, to wish
he could buy.