bits of me – poetry thursday

I make grocery lists
in pencil on green Post-Its.
I eat large bars of dark chocolate
wrapped in gold foil, half
a square at a time.
I knit a new scarf every couple of months,
but I usually give them away
and wrap myself in rustling pashminas
made of silk and woven light.

I feel devious when I wear black eyeliner,
sneaky when I dip into magazines
in the checkout line,
standing there with my box of pasta,
my two tomatoes and my quart of milk.
I tear through stacks of library books
but hestitate over buying even one,
because I like to populate my bookshelves
with friends.