i work at a
super market, though
it isn't very
super. i work
at a grocery
store which employs
plenty of geniuses;
potheads,
crack heads,
alcoholics,
ex-hippies,
hippies,
college kids and
dropouts,
high schoolers,
and others from
the mentally
ill spectrum. the kids in
the deli always ask
me for pot. i saw one
kid wearing this capsule
full of white powder around
his neck and asked him if
that was his crack-cocaine
chain. he said no, that
it was his fathers
ashes; i felt like
an a*****e.
there's
this particular
guy that works up
front who was in
a seriously damaging car
crash
i don't know when. he
smokes and he drinks
and sings and still has
visions. every so
often he asks me
for pot. one day he
said 'moogahmbu' and some
lady asked him what it
meant and how many
languages he spoke. he said
it doesn't mean anything, not
everything needs
a definition, and that he
speaks no languages. it
was decided he was being
modest; he knows french...
but failed each year he took in
high school. at the front i
cashier. i pick up items and i run them
through the scanner and i pick up
items and i run them through
the scanner and i pick up items
and run. it's numbing, it's
numbing and it's mindless. sometimes
i'm lucky and go
outside to collect carriages and
have a smoke. next door there is
a dynamite factory, which holds
plenty of explosives. you can hear
the explosions, you can feel
the explosions. one day when
i was outside this man with
a lazy eye and a lisp and a handle bar
mustache
was telling me
about the bombs and
the weaponry, and
if that place blows, man, we'll all
be gone too. and i
said
'moogahmbu'.