A very large and pretty, shapely china cup —
bright flowers, spring-green leaves, one stripy wing-spread bee
emblazoned on its plump white curves — surprise to see it
gleaming on a store shelf near some aprons hanging down
some small Italian crackers, cutting boards, pale cannellini beans . . .
Odd cup! odd here and much too big for coffee
but caught my eye — why? guess somehow it seemed to be
so . . . oddly practical, useful cup for certain kinds of soup
proper size and shape and shade for green potage
or minestrone, even borscht, maybe?
Not necessary to acquire it, nor anything
(unless ongoingness means food gets deemed a need)
yet shapely cup lodged somewhere in the errant mind
while weekdays passed — and then more food restocking
one more Saturday, in same old market once again
reno'd now, great big Italian place a few blocks down
where we had shopped for pasta, cheese, for many years —
on that same shelf, gleaming, the cup . . . still waiting there
beyond the shiny green-hued olive oil
before the jasmine scented bubble bath
And, to my own surprise,
at once I stopped
stopped short mid-stride
there by the big bright cup
and swiftly picked it up
purchased it
possessed it
right then
right there —
Three cold days pass
then bang it hits me out of nowhere
while walking home
see something sprouting, bright spring green
same bright spring green from painted, gaudy, too-large cup
how ugly strange it is for me
how hopeless to buy just one cup
one solitary mug, and never even think —
the way I always, always auto-thought before —
of buying, getting . . .needing two.