"How can it not know what it is?"

Supermarket aisle cart pushed by

amorphous blob of sentient protein

imagining that it's got a good bead

on things while it choses it's favorite

brands while it listens to Rush on the

smart phone (you can see where I'm 

going) in spandex and running shoes

thinking about Sunday's barbecue with

cousin Sandy and her kids and the new

pool they just got (it's cheap but it's all

they could afford) and they'll play lawn

darts and eat corn on the cob and straw-

berry shortcake for desert in the good 

old summertime the same as it ever was.