Chocolate Eyeballs

Another day behind the cash register and I was bored. Usually I would be hungrily stocking the shelves trying to make every single label perfectly perpendicular to the flat surface shelf so each would be beaming its bright label at the next unsuspecting customer. Buy me! Buy me! That's what people are unknowingly bombarded with as they walk through the aisles with perfectly aligned products--subconscience verbal abuse by inanimate objects. It's a science, really. But today, all the shelves were fully stocked, every label face-out, every object dusted to perfection.

I could reorganize the lottery tickets. As fun as that would be, it would confuse people too much because they'd already gotten used to this schema that I'd put in place a week ago. All containers were full and each ticket name shone brightly through the plexiglass cubicles. I spent extra careful time to cut bright, fluorescent labels to show what the new tickets were and their costs. It was a beautiful sight. I pondered where the new tickets that would be coming out next week would be placed. Maybe above the $1 Money Jars, or the $5 Gold Mines, or the $3 Cashword, or the $2 Pure Gold or the coveted spot above the best selling $5 ticket--Break the Bank. If the tickets were personified they would all be in a flutter and discussing who deserved to be above the Break the Bank ticket.

$1 Money Jar: Well, I should be placed there because people love $1 tickets and I should obviously be above the best selling ticket overall. And come on...my name alone..."Money Jar" implies my associated nature with "banks" and the eminent "breaking" of them. People break their money jars all the time...

$2 Pure Gold: Come on. I'm pure gold. Ya put that in banks. Yadayadayada. I deserve to be above there. Someone...anyone...throw me a gold nugget...please!

I was snapped out of my lottery ticket daydream by the ding of the opening door. I saw a little boy run inside followed by his father--Edward.

Edward had been coming into the store for who knows how long and we had never really gotten past the conventional "How ya doing?'s" and stuff like that which was disappointing. He was gorgeous and so sweet and nice. Sometimes I just wanted to pounce on him--eat him up--show him things he never thought possible...

A few months ago, it was revealed to me that he had two children but he had no wedding ring on so that was a sign right? Or was he getting it cleaned for some reason?? Maybe he was recently separated? No matter, we had casually developed this air of flirtation and the tension between us was suffocating. There was an obvious attraction there. It was as if we were characters in a sitcom and we were the two that belonged together and everyone knew it except for the two characters and they just seemed so oblivious and----

"Hey, how's it going?" Edward coyly asked me. He leaned against the counter and it gave a squeak. He had these amazing chocolate brown eyes that held their gaze on me and it was intoxicating.

"Hey, Edward. Nothin much. Just the same ol' stuff."

"That's cool. Hurry up, Josh. We gotta go." His son scurried left and then right overwhelmed by our wide selection of candies and sweets.

"So...uh...do you go to the movies and stuff?" Ed asked very nervously and uncomfortably. This was a guy with two children. Surely, he had smoother lines than this.

I smiled. "Yea, I go the movies all the time. How about you?"

"Yea, yea, I like a good movie here and there. What was the last movie you just saw?"

"Hmm...I saw that new kung-fu movie that came out last weekend. It was surprisingly good."

"Oh, yea, you saw that already? Man, I wana go see that." There was a pause as we locked gazes and then we both turned away at the exact moment. "Hurry, up Josh. They got ice cream too. Here look vanilla."

"Vanilla is the best." I say. Geezus, I'm such a dork. Vanilla retard. Vanilla groupie. Vanilla whore.

"So did you go see that movie with your boyfriend?"

I paused. He was trying to dig for info and it was so cute and endearing. I looked into his creamy chocholate eyes and was lost in them. "Nope. Just went with a friend."

There was a nod and a smile. I couldn't take my eyes away from his eyes. I wanted to fall deeply into them. Swim in the pool of his irises. Sleep in the folds of his eyelids. Run through the fields of his eyelashes.

There was a crash as a jar of lollipops fell to the floor. Suddenly Josh was running around in a hyper, 5-year old frenzy.

"JOSH! STOP THAT!"

But all I could do was look at Edward's eyes (though wrought with frustration with this son).

"JOSH! HURRY UP!"

His delicious chocolate eyes....

"DON'T DO THAT!"

His gorgeous chocolate eyes...

"YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE!."

His completely edible, made-for me, creamy, dark, come-hither and be my love-slave, chocolate eyes.....

"Sorry, he gets hyper like this all the time. JOSH!"

I smiled. "It's ok. I want to eat your eyeballs."

My body froze and I felt like I was paralyzed. No way. Did I really say what I think I just said...OUT LOUD???

There was a mind-numbing silence. Josh had tired down and was sitting on the floor now, his hand on his father's leg. Edward looked down at his son and then back at me and now his eyes questioned whether he heard what he thought he heard.

"Gumballs! We have gumballs. Did he want some gumballs?" I motioned to our colorful gum section and gave a sigh of relief when Edward merely shook his head and let the strange (Twilight-esque) moment melt away behind us. Thank the heavens for gumballs.

Finally, they decided on a pack of green apple gumballs and a pint of vanilla ice cream.

There was a pause as I gave him his change.

A question in his eyes and a patient reply waiting on my lips.

But then he began to walk away. I wanted to scream COME BACK COME BACK ASK ME ASK ME ANYTHING AND I'LL DO IT!!!

He looked back at me and I looked at him and we both smiled. I watched as the glass door shut behind him. He started up his car and drove away.

I couldn't wait till the next time he came into the store.

Wednesday Afternoon at New Amsterdam Coffeehaus

"So have you gotten to the point where you can't stand the stink of money yet?"

"Hmm...I don't think so. There are times when there are people who bring in really smelly money. And that's gross. But right now, I'm happy with the fact that I've been able to hold so much money in my own hands."

"Haha. Man, yea, I can't stand it though when people come into the store and they're looking for their money and finally they realize it's in their sock. And I'm watching in horror as they unlace their shoes and hand me a filthy bill smelling like goddamn feet."

"Geezus."

"And the women who put money in their bras? What's up with that?"

"So you think fat people stink because they can't reach everywhere cause their so fat?"

"That's my theory. They shower or whatever but there ain't no way they can scrub under every single fold of fat, right? That's why they smell. And its a common smell among fat people. I know, I've got my share of obese people who come through the store. It's all the same. I'm not makin fun...I'm tellin the facts."

"Yea, there are some stinky people who come into the bank and there's this one guy who just smells so bad, I just wana hurry up and count the money. He can't walk away fast enough for me."

"Hahaha, that's funny."

"Tell me about it.....hey, since when do you smoke cigars?"

"I dunno. Just when you said you wanted to smoke cigars. I have to say I've smoked more cigars then cigarettes lately. I guess that's a good way to stop smoking cigarettes. haha."

"We definitely need to go get some better cigars. These things just ain't cuttin' it."

"Yea. We need to find a good cigar shop. Did you know the cigs in the vending machine here are five bucks. That's bullshit."

"One time, me, **********, and *********** bought a cigar down in ********** and we all three were puffin at it for like an hour and we still weren't through with it before we couldn't take no more. That's a real cigar."

"That's cool. Hmm...I sure could go for some onion rings right about now."

Naked and Bleeding

Peel off my shirt
Unbuckle your belt
Kick off our shoes

Keep your socks on.

Nothing to lose
Don't worry
We'll clean up later.

Pull me away.
Hold me close.
Fast forward...then rewind.

Lost and tangled
Suffocating (...breathe...)
Falling apart(...stay close...)

Keep your head on.

Now all I feel are
Your finger prints on me.
Don't worry...all bruises fade.

Are you there yet?
Let it wash over you.
And let me watch.

Keep the lights on.

Then you ask about my scars.
Don't if you can't take
The bleeding.

For now I'm sitting on
Your shoulder...
With white wings and red tail.

Existing somwhere between
a temporary fascination..
and a long-term complication.

Two lesbians walk in....

Two lesbians walk into the store in a very nonchalant manner. I recognize them immediately.

I could refer to them as many things--"The two chicks who buy lots of fruity chews and candy" or the "The shrimp fried rice with extra shrimp chick and the pepper steak chick"...you get the drift. But the "two lesbians" seems so much more appropriate as I watch them walk right past me with interlocked pinkies to the back of the store to order some food.

One of them is on the hefty side with tiny braids crisscrossing her scalp. The other is slimmer with sleek black hair and long, hanging "Mother of Africa" tits. They were gorgeous, really, in their own right (the two individuals as well as the tits).

The group at Billiard Bar 

Me and my big sis, Nancy 

Me and Adrian 

Recognition

She stood there, still like an icicle
Cold and unwavering, holding her breath
As he passed by

She had recognized him from afar
Far back from the trenches of
The past

And she sighed. Seeing a tangible
Form of him that so casually trailed
Through her mind so many times

It was like a dream. Was it really him?
Yes. Of course it is.
But she knew he did not recognize her.

Clutching her purse in one hand.
Squeezing the basket full of groceries
in the other.

She waits and lets his presence wash over her.
See me? She silently screams. Let my face
fall into place in the puzzle of your mind

And recognize me. Take that instant and
Sigh with surrender, and smile.
Tell me how much you've missed me.

And then we'll walk through the dairy and
cereal aisle and realize we both like 1% and
Captain Crunch. Let's get married.

But no, my fear grips me. You're a bit ahead of me now
Looking at the grapes. You look over your shoulder.
And see a girl picking lemons.

You think, Hey that girl sorta looks like......what's her name?
Even pessimism creeps into my hopeful thoughts.
And that's all. You turn back to your goddamn grapes.

Look how my mind has wrapped and twisted
Your presence into a wave of yearning and expectation
Only to crash onto the fragile sands of my hope

There's probably a girlfriend or a wife waiting
For you to bring home the groceries for dinner
And doesn't appreciate the kisses you offer before bed

So long ago, so long ago, but was it that long?
How could my memory fade so easily in your head
While your face was always present for me, clear and crystal

Yearnings of a madwoman, yearnings of a stalker
Sigh. This is silly. If I were normal, I could just walk
Up to you and start a conversation, end with an invitation

But I am an icicle, cold and unwavering

Here I am

Hmm...I've been called alot of things before. And recently I was called a racist, a liar, as well as being referred to as ignorant of the Vietnamese culture all in one unsuspecting morning when all I wanted to do was eat my cereal in peace.

Oh, please, don't make me gag, Anonymous Poster. But to clear some things up, Am I any of those things you so vehemently tag me as?

Sure, why not? (Even though it was not my intention to do so.) If it's the persona I'm taking when writing than that's my right and it's your right to call me that but with such hostility? Did I possibly stub your toe in a past life...or maybe hit you in the face with a dodgeball when we were in gym class in elementary school? If so, I apologize, I just don't know my own strength...

And referring to your lung cancer comment. Oh, man, I wish. Do you know how many more presents and money packets would be sent my way if that were the case. I'd probably get a sweet settlement from the tobacco companies too....Geez...You have no idea.

Bronze

Sometimes she reflects on herself and the things that have made impressions, footprints and scars on her life.

She reminisces about some theory she can't quite remember the name of or who thought of it...but that they had discussed in class one day about the theories of human psyche development...one in particular about how we are constantly changing and we are different people placed in one solitary body. How who we were ten minutes ago has undergone numerous changes and now ten minutes later you are a different being. This brings comfort to her mind...

The theory rings true to her as she lays by the pool and thinks of who she is in this moment. The girl in the fuschia bikini and swimming shorts lying on the plastic lawn chair bronzing in the beating sun and feeling the beads of sweat form on her smooth skin and the contact of the plastic lining on her body. She'll probably have imprints on her thighs and stomach. She revels in the weight of the cigarette smoke filling her lungs contrasted with the lightheaded dizziness in her head that puts her into an almost hypnotic state. But she isn't a chain smoker. She only does it on occasion when the situation deems fit and today in the deliciously lazy afternoon of nothingness, a few cigarettes aren't only a spontaneous pleasure, but a neccessity to raise the bar of relaxtion.

She turns over and continues reading her book which she is drinking in like an alcoholic to vodka because she had been on a literary hiatus for some weeks now for lack of time to go to the library. This novel was particulary enjoyable because the author had an uncanny style of writing similar to her own and she internally aspired to have her own thoughts binded in a tangible form like this and maybe somewhere along the road in the future, some stranger would be sitting in their lounge chair next to the fire with her book in hand thinking exactly what she was thinking at this moment...That's damn good writing. She couldn't discern which was more enticing--the thought of other people's praise as validation or a final conclusion to her own lost journey for value and self-worth?

The next few days of nothingness were like gold flecks in a watering pan. She took one glance at the passing clouds and closed her eyes and pushed all thoughts of the impending cease of all of this by the end of week when she would be tossed back into the mundane life in Dallas where she would be back behind the cash register where no one knew her name, but only her feigning smile.