Bonnie Does Whole Foods

I am so bold, so brave
I am at the fancy, schmancy Whole Foods Market
I have selected my first rate, organic, wild range items
And now I am going to the checkout

Not just any checkout…..the self checkout
I feel so grown up and hip  (I should note here, I’ve been grown up for a long time)
Still, not every elder at sixty fifteen has the gumption
To amble up to the waiting self-check register

I start the process; Ooh, look at me.
First item, scan the bar code and
Shazam, it works perfectly
Onward, and finally all the barcoded items are done

One last item left…..It’s a piece of fruit; I chose it; I want it
I look at it. And it stares back at me.
You gotta name it to claim it, scoffs the register
Uh…. My brain freezes, seizes

Deep breathe. Quietly, I list the usual suspects:
It’s not an orange, not a banana
Not a pineapple, not a papaya
The register is waiting patiently

Which is not so much the case for the guy behind me
Who is trying to understand why that strange older woman
Keeps staring at the fruit in front of her
I stay relatively calm and reassure myself

It will come to me….Not a tangerine
Not a pear, not an apple…
It’s on the tip of my tongue which
Seems not to be connected to my brain

Oh, come on, you little synapses
Do your thing….and suddenly
Bango, It’s a mango
It’s a beautiful, perfectly ripe mango

Success! I cuddle my sweet piece of fruit
Complete my relationship with the self-check register
And my self-satisfied being struts out of the store
As I wave ta-ta to the guy who escaped to another register

Believe me, you arrogant, impatient boob
Some day this will happen to you too.
And I will be there, somewhere in the ether
Giggling as you stare waiting for the name that eludes you.