Supermarket car park

OPINION COLUMN #23

Today, I “had to” write.

I was tempted to keep going on my enamoured and broken heart. But I was uninspired and on the edge of getting bored.

Then, for lack of love, I tried to write the war. To change it into poetry to share my helplessness. But my words lacked power and were not worthy of the haunted horror.

Then, I waited, dry, for my wheels to get fixed in the supermarket car park.

Thankfully, it was sunny and I was wearing my yellow pants and shoes… what a bore to wait, empty-brained, in a supermarket carpark.

And when I say “empty brained”, it’s an image: even deserted, uninvited thoughts always come along and threatens to fall on the wrong side of the day… Slippery moves that I tend to avoid lately…

And I couldn’t betray my yellow pants and shoes like that! They had worked so hard on keeping me alive!

Then, I took my phone and opened my note app to tell the supermarket car park’s stories…

Roaring trolleys, fulfilling trunk, banging car doors.

Youngers’ strawberries flavoured e-cigarets as they the supermarket « made in purpan » their place to be, their own kingdom during winter holidays.

The winner of his alone kart race as he brings them back to their safe place.

Hilled women getting out through windowed doors, hung to a PowerPoint or to screaming kids on holidays.

The guy in his overalls colored with fluorescent orange as he has just finished his workday and bought food for tonight or for lunch.

And me, sitting on a stone wall in the middle of cars, keeping my stomach busy with chocolate chip cookies, filling up my heart with dancing words, emptying my mind with absent clouds in the sky, seeking for the beauty, far from wars and bombs, even in the supermarket carpark.

Because, in the end, it is so absurd, my yellow pants and shoes in this supermarket car park while my screen shows, torn and guilty, the number of dead and wiped cities toward the world.