photo by author.

choredom.

sonnet.

embarking on my weekly shopping trip;
perspiring, i approach the grocery store —
i’ve done this countless times, and should deplore
the boredom, but stay stoic in the midst
of this accustomed task. if i omit
an item from our list, this routine chore
will sour in retrospect. i pace the floor
in anxious haste, let whispered curses slip;
i hate the other shoppers, hate the way
the staff decide to restock every shelf
the instant i arrive. i must get home.
this torture is a high point of my day —
i hate the shopping in and of itself,
but love the short adventure on my own.

alex guenther.
check out recent interview here.