In the Supermarket of Orgasms

after Allen Ginsberg  and Louise Gluck


Some nights I feel so alone in my longing for you, love, alone in my supermarket of orgasms as I cruise the aisles of produce, contemplating two pears, asking myself, Do I dare?  Or do I dare eat a peach?   Or these plums, so cold, so sweet? But then I see the store detective watching me in the convex mirror. (He’s such a perv!)  And Louise Gluck in the floral section, pushing a cart filled with fragrant flowers, swearing she hates their scent.  As I watch (she thinks I’m not looking) she presses her face into the blossoms and inhales deeply.  A little cry of pleasure escapes her lips.  And I inhale with her and cry out, too.  For how can I resist?

How can I live without that scent in the air? Or that odor in the world, as Louise calls it?  I ask this as I close my eyes and think of you, love, of your lips sealing my mouth as my cry rises higher and higher, mounting until I rise up with it, leaving Louise far below, discontentedly contemplating her next lie or line as the little wheels of her grocery cart squeak and spin around and around like a question pursuing an answer that has already drifted through the sliding doors and out into the night.




Nin Andrews received her BA from Hamilton College and her MFA from Vermont College. The recipient of two Ohio Arts Council grants, she is the author of several books including The Book of Orgasms, Spontaneous Breasts, Why They Grow Wings, Midlife Crisis with Dick and Jane, Sleeping with Houdini, and Southern Comfort. She also edited Someone Wants to Steal My Name, a book of translations of the French poet, Henri Michaux. Her next book, Why God Is a Woman, is forthcoming from BOA Editions in May, 2015.

Issue #40 October 2014
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