1.

The beautiful massage therapist who works upstairs walks by the window of the 
market where I work carrying her basket of linens and wearing her fitted knit 
robe, and I dream I am in Bolivia, wherever that is. 

2.

The fat lady postal worker with the moustache comes in to the market, clogs 
up the toilet, buys her customary pork rinds, canned vienna sausages, and two 
packages of chiclets, and I dream I am in hell. 

3.

The small, gender and age ambiguous child with the bowl cut and glasses 
approaches the counter and buys the local rag and a copy of the Wall Street 
Journal, and I dream of aliens from outer space.

4.

My least favorite old Jewish couple is here. They ask me to do things like 
walk them to the dairy case, because they don't think they can find it on 
their own, its only the millionth time they've been in the shop. Or they have 
me put each of their seven items in separate bags, four plastic, three paper, 
and to roll up their newspapers and secure them with a rubber band. They talk 
to each other without hearing each other. I dream of being alone. 

5.

The old, overweight, intelligent, and probably gay alcoholic guy is here 
asking me if I have watched that documentary on the Ukraine he gave me yet. I 
tell him I have not had time, which is a lie. I just keep forgetting. He says 
he is giving up on educating me about my heritage, buys his cheap Andre 
champagne, Lactaid, and Egg Beaters, and leaves with a chuckle. He used to 
write for National Geographic magazine, and I wonder what he thinks of his 
life. I dream of him that night, and he is drunk and pleading, dropping 
things everywhere, and crying. 

6.

The humongous couple who think they are a comedy team were just here. they 
bought their usual mountain of groceries, strictly meat and dairy, and paid 
by check like always too. when i smelled the check to make sure it was good, 
they told me not to sniff too much, that he keeps his checkbook in the pocket 
near his butt. i didn't even crack a smile. they waddle out with their 
tremendous arms full of bags of food, and i dream of their deaths. perhaps 
they will suffocate each other in their sleep, but probably they will have 
heart attacks. i wonder if the coroner will be able to take them out whole, 
or have to chop them into pieces. i wonder if they will need more than a 
grave plot each, like they need more than one airplane seat each. i wonder if 
they are happier than i am. moreover, i suspect they might be.


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