Supermarket Cornucopia

The conveyor belt is neatly arranged 
with the food items I have selected 
over the hour it takes me to progress 
from the fresh produce to the bakery
aisle, the canned goods to the dried 
foodstuffs, the baking constituents,
the frozen and fresh fish and meat cases, 
and the refrigerated dairy products. A 
bag holds most of the tinned food, meant
not for my pantry, but to be placed into 
the lobby receptacle collecting for the 
area food bank to aid those unable 
to make that leisurely shopping stroll 
that is my weekly habit, themselves.
Once, such abundance and variety
did not exist. Once, people consumed
what they grew and themselves managed 
to raise, augmented by the occasional hunt. 
Now, the world's produce is at my
fingertips, my curiosity sated over exotic 
choices enlivening my dinner table and 
our palates. Now, cuisine of variety 
challenges my talents as a cook. I never 
fail to view that abundance with a
sense of awe, amazement also that, 
week to week it fuels us. The cashier, 
this week, someone long known, whose 
chatty remarks lean toward confidences 
of a personal nature, expresses her own
opinion garnered by long familiarity
that I obviously like to cook; that I
also like to eat merits no comment.