Friday, July 30, 2010

A Supermarket in Pittsburg, California


          I saw you, Brad Pitt, alone, pushcart-ing your own way, as I was looking over the cans of pitted apricots — had you and Angelina split? You look much better without your beard, I'd say.

          We passed by the Ocean's Spray shelves, between aisles Eleven and Twelve. Your youth is still intact, as though you as were immortal, Joe Black.

          Should I tactfully Interview you, Brad, or just sideways glance as I keep tabs on the diet you shop to feed your abs? Or will I just Babel something stupid like I like your movies, dude? (Did I blush as you fumbled over the Kalifornia cucumbers?)


posted to Big Tent Poetry, in response to the challenge of writing a poem that imagines a pop-culture icon in a mundane setting. (This poem is also an obvious allusion to A Supermarket in California by Allen Ginsberg.)