Onions and Tears
By Abigail Schaefer
Back
and
forth.
Back
and
forth.
She paces the produce aisle.
Confused,
annoyed,
panicked.
Like Alice,
searching
for the White Rabbit.
No one else to be seen.
A leaf
lost in the wind.
In search of red onions.
The red in her hair
mirrors the red of the onions.
I watch
from behind the wall of corn.
Will she ask for help?
Will she just give up?
Back
and
forth.
Back
and
forth.
Back
and
forth.
She stops
at the farthest point from the onions.
Eyes darting across the floor.
She grabs a bag,
and walks to the vidalias.
In her mind wishing them red,
but unfortunately
they were not.
Crying on the inside,
she glances to the left.
Yellow… Spanish… Sweet…
RED.
Alas, the onions were in sight.
Victory.
Rustle, rustle, rustle.
I can hear the bag,
as she drops in three red onions.
Relieved that the ordeal has concluded,
she heads toward the checkout.
Giggling, I return to the corn.
and
forth.
Back
and
forth.
She paces the produce aisle.
Confused,
annoyed,
panicked.
Like Alice,
searching
for the White Rabbit.
No one else to be seen.
A leaf
lost in the wind.
In search of red onions.
The red in her hair
mirrors the red of the onions.
I watch
from behind the wall of corn.
Will she ask for help?
Will she just give up?
Back
and
forth.
Back
and
forth.
Back
and
forth.
She stops
at the farthest point from the onions.
Eyes darting across the floor.
She grabs a bag,
and walks to the vidalias.
In her mind wishing them red,
but unfortunately
they were not.
Crying on the inside,
she glances to the left.
Yellow… Spanish… Sweet…
RED.
Alas, the onions were in sight.
Victory.
Rustle, rustle, rustle.
I can hear the bag,
as she drops in three red onions.
Relieved that the ordeal has concluded,
she heads toward the checkout.
Giggling, I return to the corn.