An Open Letter To You, Mr. Fruit-Squeezer
March 2nd, 2006
You think you know what you’re doing, but you don’t.
Standing there, in between the misting machines and the POM juice. Around the corner from the cherry tomatoes and the fresh onions. Down the aisle from the cheese and the hummus and the yogurt. Just a hop, skip and a jump from the portable pharmacy at the front of the store…
You squeeze the fruit relentlessly, with no end in sight.
Every time I go to the store, you’re there. I’m not quite sure if you’ve rigged some kind of high-tech notification device that lets you know when I’m on my way — but every time I walk in the electronic door I see you there. Either in front of the oranges, hanging out by the apples or lovingly evaluating your family of cantaloupes.
