my mother, father and I walked to the market
once a week
for our government relief food: cans of beans, cans of
weenies, cans of hash, some potatoes, some eggs.
we carried the supplies in large shopping bags.
and as we left the market we always stopped outside
where there was a large window
where we could see the bakers
kneading
the flour into the dough.
there were 5 bakers, large young men
and they stood at
5 large wooden tables working very hard, not looking up.
they flipped the dough in the air
and all the sizes and designs were
different.
we were always hungry and the sight of the men working the dough, flipping it in the
air was a wondrous
sight, indeed.
but then, it would come time
to leave
and we would walk away carrying our heavy shopping bags.
“those men have jobs,” my father would say. he said it each time. every time we watched the bakers he would say that.
“I think I’ve found a new way to make the hash,”
my mother would say
each time.
or sometimes it was
the weenies.
we ate the eggs all different ways:
fried, poached, boiled. one of our favorites was poached eggs on hash.
but that favorite finally became almost impossible to eat.
and the potatoes, we fried them, baked them, boiled them.
but the potatoes had a way of not becoming as tiresome as the hash, the eggs, the beans.
one day, arriving home,
we placed all our foodstuffs on the kitchen counter and stared at them.
then we turned away.
“I’m going to hold up a bank!” my father suddenly said.
“oh no, Henry, please!” said my mother,
“please don’t!”
“we’re going to eat some steak, we’re going to eat steaks until they come out of our ears!”
“but Henry, you don’t have a gun!”
“I’ll hold something in my coat, I’ll pretend it’s a gun!”
“I’ve got a water pistol,” I said, “you can use that.”
my father looked at me. “you,” he said, “SHUT UP!”
I walked outside.
I sat on the back steps.
I could hear them in there
talking but I couldn’t quite make it out.
then I could hear them again, it was louder.
“I’ll find a new way to cook every- thing!” my mother said.
“I’m going to rob a god-damned bank!” my father said.
“Henry, please, please don’t!” I heard my mother.
I got up from the steps. walked away into the afternoon.