Upon Asking the Cashier at Kroger to Scan That Old Tattoo of a Barcode on My Forearm

Turns out my body’s a dollar sweet potato
her register’s screen said, as she lifted

her scanner, and I laughed. I can finally call myself
Garnet, Georgia Jet, Carolina Red. Those names


of tubers—my accidental totems. So many
varieties. I might slather


my arm in marshmallows, burrow
deep into the Southern earth. I’d gotten
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