convenience store

I spend as little as a fiver
for a bottle of enjoyment
and spend some tasteless banter
for my own amusement

I often come with plans to devour
then bring back an armload of materials
I come, even on days when I’m not sure
what I am having later?

I don’t have to spend plenty
to expect much in return
all this joy kept in frames, neatly
I would take at a swipe of the hand

no poem is sold under the label “instant”
nor love canned for convenience
but standing in front of this overwhelming illusion
doesn’t it look like I still have options?
as long as I don’t choose (to be) the bad person
who splurges half-hearted dalliance
not knowing what to get in exchange for it all

I spend tonight on a paper roll
watching my words glow
smolder, then vaporize

Brighton, 2/2023
–
this piece was originally written in Vietnamese