Pamplemousse

The Student Literary Journal of Vermont State University

Amidst the hundreds of asphalt spaces
open-ended rectangles outlined in bright white lines,
two dozen black & white SUVs
each containing a woman——wives & mothers,
homemakers all——the drone of their powerful engines
humming against the soft serenity of a Wednesday morning,
each staring out blankly at one another
from behind tinted safety glass, windows up,
engulfed in the cool pulse of air conditioning,
strands of hair fluttering softly
as lines of radiant heat shimmer up
from car hoods, awaiting the imminent arrival
of scruffy worker men who bend to raise the thick gray metal gates
that will provide access to rows of plentitude,
silver carts filled to their meniscus,
the SUVs packed with plastic rainbows of bottles & boxes
& reams of white toilet paper
until there is only room enough for each woman
to sit alone among the vast amplitude of America
driving herself home.