mako shark insanity!

Adam Sontag

at the loading bay of the
davidson fish market,
lester lost,
a funny thing happened today
at the davidson fish market.

in the front,
i could barely hear,
but i knew,
over a filet of sole,
something was happening in the back.

i suppose that there's always something happening in the back,
but today,
unlike my other salmonic voyages,
it was a something of a something, not just a little something.

when i was in the back of the market,
picking out tartar sauces and lemons,
i'd see this gigantic black guy through the rubber-lined window in the two-inch thick door that led to the business part of the davidson fish market.
a lot of times, he was lifting these huge boxes,
he'd bend down and treat us voyeurs to a halibutt,
that was lester,
walking in and out of view.

after he put a box down
(it was usually a box of glass bottles-
glass is heavy, and can be broken)
lester moseyed over to where i could see him.
his cheeks would puff up with a deep breath, his (meshed, cerulean) hat in his left hand,
lester simultaneously let out a deep breath and wiped his brow with the back of his right hand.

at a place i frequent,
the davidson fish market,
this was the normal, daily routine.

so today,
i'm checking out
in more ways than one
(i was buying swordfish noses and yellowtail)
and i hear a great commotion rising from the lobster tank.

i gallantly told the college cashier to wait at the register
while i armed myself with a swordfish nose and ran off past the mussels and oysters.

what a sight to behold!
what a shock
to see
dangling from the ceiling of the business part of the fish market
a disco ball.
to see streamers in four shades of pink hanging from the loading bay
(in the back of my field of vision.)

this seen,
my surprise would have been negligible when i saw lester reaching into the lobster tank
and throwing lobsters into a steel garbage can ten feet away-

were he not
decked out in tight red leather pants
a pink knitted sweater
a bobby blond wig
crimson lipstick
and three inch red hot-tamale fake fingernails.

powerless, befuddled, consterned,
i sat indian style on the floor and poked the swordfish nose
into containers of breadcrumbs,
thinking, "shit," confusedly, as though there were a double vowel and the "i" was an "e."

"sheeit man!"

a funny thing happened today at the davidson fish market.
lester lost it.

    Photo: Jon Levin
Zeek Zeek
March 2002

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