Where Can You Even Buy a Lachrymatory

*A small glass teardrop-shaped vessel found in Roman tombs formerly
thought to hold the mourners' tears.

At this repository of odd lots
expired best-by dates
I once hated then loved
when I grew cheap like him,
I pick the Ethiopian checker
at check stand six
I usually avoid
for her talk
her annoyingly reliable question,
How’s your husband?
like she knows him
like he cares
sees kinship
in shared descent.

Today
I long for her question
so I can wrest the mic from her hand
announce to throng-filled aisles
Ex-husband!

Wait as past-prime eligibles
stampede toward me bearing bouquets
of discount broccoli cauliflower arugula
off-brand cheeses $3.99 bottles of wine
(reduced from $79.98!)
—already turned.

Watch them contort
at my neon blue feet and vie for rights
to fix fences clean basement clear gutters
organize garage weed prune spackle
paint plumb tune move lift
do my bidding.

But this time
she startles me for a beat,
I saw your ex-husband last week,
so skeeny, so skeeny.
then recall he flew through town
when I was out, knew
for him no walk drive or flight
was ever complete without a stop
at the Grocery Outlet Bargain Market.

He’s doing penance.
I sniff as untapped springs
crack concrete subfloors
overhead sprinklers deploy
sea levels rise.
Voice over the P.A. system decries,
Clean up at check stand six,
and bring this gal a lachrymatory
from aisle five!
while women in line behind reach into
handbags and hand me tissues.

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Sherry Fraser’s poems focus on the weird, with humor, sarcasm, confession, sadness, and love on display. Her poetry has been published in Milvia Street, Chrones’ Words, The Scribbler, and other publications. She lives in Point Richmond, California, across the bay from San Francisco. In addition to poetry, Sherry writes fiction and short memoir pieces and fiction, all while supporting her elderly cat, who thanks her by stalking and preying upon her feet and ankles.