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Kroger, Bloomington IN (August 2015), a poem by Hiromi Yoshida

Kroger, Bloomington IN (August 2015)
by Hiromi Yoshida

Bike rush to Kroger—
in my employee-discounted Indiana University fitness leggings and Target
sports bra—for $4.99 Barefoot Pinot Grigio and possibly sushi (only if 1 pkg costs less than $6.00)—culminated in braking @ the bike rack before a window glass reflection that was narcissistically pleasing

wind blowing long fine hair in one direction—freshly shampooed and
conditioned with Matrix Biolage hair care products, styled by Connie @ Perfect Illusion—I felt like a supermodel (despite my XS petite size)—the sun and the wind and my strength merging and coursing through my caffeine-fueled body in one powerful surge—pulsating outwardly from sun-saturated bodywashed pores… Directly juxtaposed with this glass reflection just around the

redbrick corner with the sign reading:


solidly stood a woman with chunky ankles, askew skirts, wispy faded hair pulled back in a slovenly ponytail, whose gaze met mine quite inadvertently behind my Nine West shades (exorbitant plexiglass barrier between ourselves). I U-locked my Trek bike:

the woman seemed like she wanted to shrink into herself—possibly disappear around some remote corner that only she could access—where she could loiter or panhandle for a sympathetic smile without adverse repercussion. And indeed she did

(disappear) the moment I looked up from my U-lock—an unlikely grey specter in the south side of Bloomington, Indiana—as improbable as my own reflected window glass self—shimmering arbitrary fragments of economic value that can never really add up.

Bio: Hiromi Yoshida has been described as one of Bloomington’s “finest and most outspoken poets” by Tony Brewer, Chair of the Writers Guild at Bloomington, Indiana. Her poems have been published in The Asian American Literary Review, Indiana Voice Journal, Evergreen Review, and The Rain, Party, & Disaster Society.