sunday morning
stressing over our telus bill
i grab my bike and close the door
two empty cotton bags
balled between fist and handlebar
sunday market, rotary park, 11 am
in time for lemon cupcakes
the sun, i grin
came for the cupcakes too
kids go wild on jolly-jumper rafts
dogs sniff dogs
people pay cash
all as i load up on the vegetables
our sofa-size garden lacks:
chard, peppers, corn-on-the-cob
then a snack
and a warm loaf of bread,
unsliced
the walkabout, smaller than a softball infield
equals fifty minutes of smalltown conversation
how's your summer
oh, hey how're things
we should ride together tomorrow
what're you up to today
et cetera
until
i wander to my waiting townie-bike
unlocked
i balance the bags
precarious
one per handlebar
shades of garden-green overflow
i wobble home
comical version of a strongman farmer's-walk
open the unlocked door
check my e-mail
message from a buddy
suggesting my girlfriend and i
move to the city, calgary
attached is a high-paying job posting
ridiculously high paying
i look to the cotton bags
smile back to the monitor
poke the key
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