THE BAG THAT BREAKS AT THE CITY GATE
The bag survives a hundred streets,Then breaks exactly near my feet.It carries hope in fragile skin,Thin plastic stretched by what’s within. Eggs become a risky prayer,Tomatoes roll without a care,I redistribute weight like math,Trying to outsmart disaster’s path. Handles dig into my hand,Leaving marks like reprimands.Yet cashiers nod with quiet trust,As if the bag will…
