Sunday Afternoon Poem

I am not one with the lettuce

I am not one with the lettuce
I am aware of it's position
on the cutting board and
I am mindful of the knife
I am concentrating on the fold of the leaf
I pay attention to it's symmetry and while...

I may not be pretending to be a chef
I am familiar with the art form used by them
I am not saying that
I have never been one with the lettuce
I have aimlessly chopped many leaves unconsciously

I ate the lettuce
not thinking of the process in which it is now fragmented
I cannot say
I never pretended
while preparing lettuce or any other vegetables

I pretend all day

I am not one with my motherly duties
I pretend to be stern and kind
I know it to be a mother's role

I pretend to be polite to the man at the store so
he will be nice when
he hands me the change

I can be one with the lady at Cumbies
who is one with her duties
while conveying one dollar scratch tickets

or does...
she pretend to be the girl at cumbies selling scratch tickets politely
her countertop neighbor is one with the task
as she hands the customer his card of hopes
unaware of it's potential catastrophic outcome

~ Natasha Taylor