Eating a Pomegranate
I wait for the grocer to turn his back
before slipping it into my pocket.
Soon I am eating a pomegranate
thinking about India
looking for scarves, Shiva.
I feel the seeds pop like rain.
Tonight I will sleep in its hollow peel.
But for now I try to imagine what
this must look like to the grocer,
these exotic fruits appearing, disappearing.