Stopping by Whole Foods on a Rainy Evening
with apologies to Robert Frost
Whose foods these are I think I know
They live in a distant village though;
They will not see me shopping here
To watch the registers fill up with dough.
These far off folks must think it queer,
To shop for produce priced so dear,
Between Nob Hill and windy bay
The fanciest food store over here.
I wonder if they’re on the take,
Ten bucks a pound must be a mistake.
Filling my bag, grumbling discontent,
I hope the poor farmers can pay their rent.
Whole Foods is lovely, though, not cheap,
But I have standards I must keep.
And brie to eat before I sleep,
And brie to eat before I sleep.