trio of triumphs

i was standing in line at a convenience store once, and this older gentleman was staring at me. suddenly (oh yes and without warning) he took me by the arm and said with a slight stutter, "you must be a persephone's woman." i just kind of stared into his lazy and tired eyes and threw a giggle into the air, wanting to get me and my camel lights out of that dying 7-11 before it decided to take us to the grave, too.

but then i paused, punched back to the first time i ever saw a ghost.

"you're an occult woman, aren't you? gaining your knowledge mystically, quelling the insignificance of these books they fancy."

i puzzled over this and re-examined my outfit ... blue shirt, rose skirt, docs ... the patches on my bag didn't say much ... neither did my expression ... so what clued him in?

***

once, i was sitting in a starbucks and i've never seen so many middle aged women with big tacky purses and flippy leather flats. they were all trying to ignore me and maybe dash the thought from their minds that i'm the future of their children. all the little teenage girls, bred into middle class money, serving them low fat mochas and such in their cute green aprons. i swear, they put heroin or crack or something in their chai. what a scheme, huh? let's put highly addictive, mind-altering drugs in our chai tea so that these stupid motherfuckers will drink it and need it day and night night and day until they have to start buying the mixture from us and make it in their puny dorm microfridges at two in the morning. my friend and i would crave the shit. i mean, i wasn't the same unless i had my chai. i still get cravings every now and again.

i went into rehab, and i'm ok now. i go to pj's. their chai is my methadone.

***

i used to work at this used cd store in boston. really hep place, and once, i was ringing out this customer and gave him his total. he was sifting through his wallet, and when he looked up at me, his jaw dropped. i just stood there with my hand out, waiting patiently for his eight dollars and thirty nine cents. he merely stared. now, i thought there was some sort of problem ... he had found a dead bug in his wallet or the concept of correct change eluded his simply-wired mind. so i just repeated the total (hoping this might jog some sort of electron running around up there) then his mouth (and tongue and vocal cords) formed words, "you are positively gorgeous."

"thanks, that's still eight thirty nine." (no way was i letting him have a discount.)

"no, you are the most gorgeous girl i have seen in a long time. are you seeing anyone?"

"yes, eight thirty nine."

he kept going on and on about the music i was playing and wasn't it amazing that we had both been at the same concert the week before. i chit-chatted with him and tried to make him understand that i had been at that concert with my BOYFRIEND. he just kept on trying.

that was certainly the longest eight dollars and thirty nine cents of my "record store clerk" career.

and kids at home, i'm not even that hot.