I.
my fiance is 29.
in an effort to make sure
we live a long life together,
she got me
taking vitamins
drinking smoothies
and eating my fuckin vegetables
she be side eyein me
i always leave those green thangs
on a small corner of my plate
and eat them dead last
We find ways to keep costs low,
gentrified neighborhood and all,
so we buy meats and perishables in Long Island
and get all our produce from a CSA
CSA
sounds like one of those alphabet soup
law enforcement agencies that pumped
enough crack into communities
to transform them into a paradise of kale
carrying bodegas
II.
First CSA Order
E-mail from Nexdoorgainics
6/15/2015
Bag contents:
1 lbs Green Beans she’s gonna need to force feed me these
1 head Broccoli i can handle that.
1 each Ginger Carrots never thought to combine those.
1 bunch Rainbow Chard these ain’t collards.
1 lbs New Potatoes aight. I can cook these.
1 bunch Bushwick Greens the fuck? Do they grow on the J train?
1 each Green Tomato like that old movie with white ladies fryin em?
1 each round Zucchini greaaaat. a giant green veggie dick.
2 each Cucumber make that 3.
they threw in artichoke, beets, and rutabaga
cuz our homie works there and is the plug
She picked up the bag
and left town for a conference the next day
I opened the bag, had no idea
how to cook half of what was in there
So I shoved that bag
in the back of the fridge
and ordered a pizza
The fuck I look like cooking a rutabaga?
I can’t even spell rutabaga.
Purple cabbage. Blue carrots. Sunchokes. Them long tall ass onions (scallions).
It’s a bag of confusion that taunts me from the back of my cold ass fridge
while I eat my pizza watching Narcos.
III.
I fall asleep watching Narcos because I ate a full sicilian pie.
There is no way to stay awake after eating that much food.
My food dream was a story my future father-in-law told me.
I’m in a giant mouse maze running
at one end of the labyrinth is a food dish filled with cocaine
this is why you shouldn’t overeat and watch Narcos
the ground shakes, a white
sandstorm pounds metal
I run, jittery, ticking
turn corners in a blur and stumble
into another dish, metal,
overflowing with sweet white
IV.
My future father-in-law told me sugar is more addictive than cocaine. The proof is in the Coca-Cola. They took the caine out. We still drink it. The proof is in the Arizona. I know adults who hate the taste of water and prefer iced tea. We be overdosin on sugar, eat sugar till joints swell
and limbs are amputated. If we gotta choose between diabetic shock and eating the Oreos stashed under the couch, it ain’t even a choice.
Timothy Prolific Veit Jones is The Inquisitive Eater's Poet of the Month for March 2018.
Timothy Prolific Veit Jones a poet, educator, and organizer whose creative work operates in the continuum of the Black Arts Movement, using a multi-disciplinary approach rooted in Hip-Hop culture as an African Diasporic folkloric praxis. He has performed his poetry at a diverse variety of venues, from Cornell University to Rikers Island to STooPS in Bed-Stuy. He has been published in African Voices, 12th Street, the graphic novel Gunplay, the Penmanship Book anthology 30/30 Vol. 2, The Ferguson Moment, and YRB Magazine. Through his former publishing company, Andre Maurice Press/Indelible Books, he edited and released Blackout Arts Collective’s One Mic: A Lyrics on Lockdown Anthology and Peuo Tuy’s Khmer Girl. Tim was a Riggio Fellow at The New School, and is a fellow at The Watering Hole. He is the author of Musaic: 40 Days, 40 Nights and the forthcoming ethnographic book of poetry titled Water + Blood. Timothy is the Visioning Partner (VP) for Institutional Culture at PURPOSE Productions, teaches Kuumba/Integrated Arts at Ember Charter Schools, and is the co-founder of the Rebel Waters publishing and performance collaborative. He is from Uniondale (Long Island), and lives in Bed-Stuy.
Featured image via Pixabay.
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