What’s the matter

Little matters

until it matters

because it mattered

and because you are little

compared to the excess of a grocery store

in its heavy light and bubbly pop

and you are holding two bags of chip

trying to figure which you prefer,

cool ranch or ranched cool,

and you think either is fine

because either is good

and you list the ingredients

to no one except yourself

who is satisfied with your

step toward health and

lower salt and saturation and fat

and who remarks how remarkable that

all these bits of the world

fit into a chip, two kinds of them,

that are both good and fine

and you decide on one happily

and a plane with hundreds of fleshy sacks

and peanuts because bags of chips are too

much of a choking hazard at high pressure

whirls into the aisle

like an uncourteous shopper

who takes all the items

under their wing

and you’re ripped into

a dip for ants

and so are the chip bags,

both becoming matter

that is good and fine under

different circumstances that matter

to someone, like the girl

for tonight’s date that never was,

that never mattered.