go into the twenty-four hour convenience store
to pick up bread and milk, just the basics
until they can make it to the supermarket later in the week.
The husband, who adores shopping, who reads labels
and checks expiration dates, spots a pile of dusty discounted toys
called Gro-Beasts. Tiny spongy dinosaurs, smaller
than a human thumb, grow "600% larger" when immersed in water. The wife who was once
a grocery store cashier likes to get in and out as quick as she can.
She collects what they came for while her husband dawdles
with a yellow Tyrannosaurus Rex, a pink winged Pterodactyl, and a baby
blue Triceratops. She is surprised when her husband brings a half dozen
to the counter, and confused when the man who works the night shift
becomes animated, "I bought these for my kid-but, hey,
I played with 'em more than he did. You can use 'em over and over.
They shrink back when they dry." The husband carries a gallon
of spring water back to the car. The wife tells him
that's the heaviness you feel before you have your period, except
all that water is stuck in your torso. As they drive home
she explains the growing potential of the sponges. Not very good in math,
the husband is disappointed to learn that 600% larger
only means six times bigger. He'll be lucky
if the prehistoric reptiles grow as long as his palm.
To prove to himself he's still bought something fun, he winks
and likens the expansive powers of the dinosaurs to his own erections.
The wife says it's no coincidence the husband took six-
the number of subconscious sex, according to her dream book.
The bloated dinosaur could also be her.
She wishes her husband could know the pain of heavy breats just once.
He wishes she would give clearer signals, that some part of her would pop up hard
and definite when he comes toward her, shedding his clothes.