Wandering towards bold
glowing red letters,
S A F E W A Y. It must have been after a show, there is a riled up
trouble making smashing breaking feeling attached to the
memory.
Rascals, Selena and Caleb for sure, maybe Anthony?, Jeremy?, Roman?, who else I am not so sure. Arriving in
safeway, a pack of loud, wandering,
bulk food snacking kids, probably a evening managers
nightmare.
Coconuts on sale. Such a
novelty, there is no resisting the
impulse purchase, we cave in. Through the checkout, coconut lolling about on conveyer
black, scanner flash
red.
Outside, across the street now, loading dock.
Pawing it over and realizing that we have just
purchased a coconut without having a single thing to break it open. This realization is succeeded by fits of primitive
violence inflicted on the poor coconut as it is smashed and thrown against the
cement rather
caveman like. Finally it yields its tender soft interior in
shattered pieces.
Greedily we gnaw at the broken chunks in the shape they have taken, ghetto style wins again.