The dairy farmer replied, “Stop

Calling things that aren’t milk

Milk. The newspaper series

was compelling, even

to a city chick like me

I add oat milk to the grocery list

I think of the dairy farmer

The journalist earned awards

Delivery person trades texts, exchanging

broccoli sprouts for bunches or

Did I order that by mistake?

I tipped him fifteen percent, sometimes

I tip twenty. Every time is a goal

To not hesitate or have to calculate,

Project out for 30 days

The same way he, surely, will

I wonder if he does his own shopping

In between or other days

I thank him, wave through the screen

A woman sits in his passenger seat

Winter coat open, attention on her phone

I wonder if she rides often, all the time

After a fight

Could be his best friend, like my daughter’s best guy

friends from high school, their small colony of peers

Crossing over the gritty sands into maturity

The cicadas are coming this year

Billions, according to the news

I am intent to obsess over both groups of new adults

I shuttle the groceries from porch to kitchen