Poetry Month Day 2: Nothing Gold

I just needed one thing,
but in my drive
to the store I
tallied
the things I could also
gather, until
I saw I couldn’t

which reminded me of the
barbecue sauce I’ve sought
across five stores and
just
can’t
find
to save my life,

or that one frozen dinner
that was always my favorite,
never to be found
again
in the freezer section,

or those dried apples
or the chipotle ketchup
or the pancake mix
or the beet chips
or that spice blend,

and I wonder
if my
love for a thing
is a kiss of death –
whether there is a
deeper metaphor
behind my search, or
whether the
ephemeral
nature
of grocery product
is what Frost meant
when he said
nothing gold can stay.