[Creative Writing] Supermarket is the Realest Place

Child me was a supermarket enthusiast.

The strong fluorescent light 

wards off all ghosts;

the happiness-filled aisles 

encompass all possible ways of living.

I wish I could be as legitimate 

as the strawberry yoghurt endorsed with a barcode.

I became a graphic designer.

When my products hit the shelf,

I felt so real, so included in the world.

I was printed in a warehouse,

touched by thousands of hands,

people ingest part of me, and store me in their kitchen.

I am inseparable from the machine —

I am real.

Sand in concrete? Real.

Sand in a quiet beach? Not real.

A milk cow? Real.

A wild peacock? Not real.

A packaging designer? Real.

A flatmate who arranges flowers? Not real.

The supermarket glows in darkness,

organising all apples and strawberries into clear piles.

The supermarket 

is the realest place.

Originally published in Glasgow Zine Library's Tuning # 1

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