Shopping at William Sonoma with my Mom
I stole the plastic lemon from the kitchen store
It was in a bowl of mixed fruits
because somehow a bright yellow orb
is meant to convince me to buy some dishes
I know stealing is wrong
but I was bored
and had I been alone I would have never entered the store at all
I saw the lemon
sitting there
mocking the hands in my pockets who itched with desire
So I pretended to be the type of person who cared about expensive pans
then snatched the small, pointless object and shoved it into my coat
I rubbed my fingers along its curves
It felt nothing like the real thing, covered with artificial bumps
The edges were soft enough to be pushed in
leaving man-made craters where my nails had been
and it did not let my hands smell sweet
Yet walking through the mall this tangible secret invigorated me
It was mine
It was worthless
but it was wrong
And now it sits in a box in my room
As a reminder of the rebel that lives within me
With one grape, one strawberry, and two olives
