Stuck Inside the Supermarket with the Beautiful Blues Again
My wife told me to find the onion crisps for a green bean casserole she was making for Easter dinner at my parents’ house. Perplexed, I confessed I had no idea where to start the search for the onion crisps and suggested we sauté a raw onion instead. “Don’t be a smart-ass,” she said and rolled her eyes and sent me on the quixotic quest.
So I roamed the aisles, Ancient Mariner-style, and found myself behind a beautiful couple in their late-twenties, olive-skinned and fit, as they whisked past the chocolate cake mix holding hands, their shopping cart filled with fresh vegetables and fish and goat cheeses but no onion crisps or cream of mushroom soup or any hint of the makings of a casserole.
Then Bob Dylan’s “Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again” started to play in my head, entering like a silk-footed thief, and I hummed it a decimal above the soft-rock that fell like syrupy summer rain from the ceiling. The beautiful couple turned at the end of the aisle and went on to live beautiful lives and birth beautiful kids, and I never found the onion crisps.
About the Author: Nathan Graziano lives in Manchester, New Hampshire, with his wife. A high school teacher, he’s the author of nine books of fiction and poetry. Fly Like The Seagull, his most recent work of fiction, was released by Luchador Press in 2020. Graziano also writes a column for Manchester Ink Link and was named the 2020 Columnist of Year by the New Hampshire Press Association. For more information, visit his website: www.nathangraziano.com.
Image Credit: Thomas J. O’Halloran “Shopping in supermarket” (1957) The Library of Congress (Public Domain)
About the Author: Steve Brisendine is a poet, writer, occasional artist and recovering journalist who lives and works in Mission, KS. His work has appeared in As It Ought To Be, Flint Hills Review, Connecticut River Review and other publications. His first collection of Poetry, The Words We Do Not Have, was published in 2021 by Spartan Press.
sunlight dusts the kitchen
like a whisper
the food-stained handwritten
index card rests
on a pile of week-old ads
the pasta machine
sits ready for the white flour,
water, and Crisco
mixed and measured
with familial fingers and eyes
after the final pass
through the hand-cranked machine
many hands take turns
with the rolling pin
to shape the dough
into soft rectangles
a plume of flour
covers everyone like snow
About the Author: Frank C Modica is a cancer survivor and retired teacher who taught children with special needs for over 34 years. When he isn’t writing he’s riding a bike or volunteering with various local agencies. His work is forthcoming or has appeared in Blue Mountain Review, Lemonspouting, and Fahmidan Journal. Frank’s first chapbook is forthcoming from Alabaster Leaves publishing.
Image Credit: Carol M. Highsmith “An Amishwoman rolls dough to make small fried pies inside the farmhouse at Yoder’s Amish Home, an authentic Amish farm that began accepting visitors in 1983 near Walnut Creek in central Ohio, along the “Amish Country Byway” Photographs in the Carol M. Highsmith Archive, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division. Public Domain.