you sell blender words in smoothies … rose petal reds mixed with shimmery ice diamond mirages …

citrus over -night endearments sprout like trays of wheatgrass from your lips …

i sip shots with orange wedges and buy 32 ounces of Superman…

but your smoothie promises never fly…

because I was only a customer… only the next customer …

and when you’re done with me you tell me “go to the back of the line…”

got to get out of here… find someplace where no one will see me bleed orange into a styrofoam cup