s w i f t s  &  s l o w s: a quarterly of crisscrossings

5 Rules for David’s Supermarket, Water
Kassie Shanafelt & Thomas Park

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Thomas Park, Nearly Parallel

5 Rules for David’s Supermarket

Rule #1: When someone buys summer sausage, you buy crackers and cheese. There’s a big knife in the Deli you can use to slice it up and spread it out on paper plates on the left side of the cash register. The manager won’t ever say a word if you let customers sample it because they always go back for more.

Rule #2: Speaking of milk, if someone brings in an empty jug and claims it’s made them sick we do have to give their money back. No questions asked.

Rule #3: At closing time, you either mop odd or even aisles. Racing makes it a bit more fun until someone knocks over the plantain chip display. Then you’ll stay late picking up the sticky, still wet from the floor bags and hope they aren’t too crushed to buy.

Rule #4: On Christmas Eve, we close early. It will snow, even though it never snows in Texas, and you won’t be able to drive home. Instead, you will sit on the wooden rocking chairs chained out front with the propane tanks eating microwaved frozen pizza and drinking hot chocolate with the people you spend all of your free time. The people you call friends.

Rule #5: The day after you get in an argument with someone on Myspace or in Spanish class over something stupid like a prom dress or the pronunciation of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, they’ll come in the store. When they plop down Betty Crocker’s Potatoes Au Gratin or a gallon of 2% milk on the counter, they will stare at you like a slave. Don’t let them feel like they have any power here. Let them stand in front of a long line impatiently while you wait on a price check and glare right back.

Thomas Park, A Few

Water

When I say I use to drink a lot, I don’t mean water. I mean, yes! I’ll have a water, please. As a matter of fact, just keep them coming. I need something to refill that refillable feeling that’s broken inside of me if you know what I mean. When he asks why I drank my life away, I think of swimming in the public pool during summer break. My mom yelling from the side that is was time to go. Me kicking and splashing with an attitude that could only stem from the safety keeping me wet and her on dry land. Five more minutes! Thrusting myself to touch my toes on the bottom only to burst through the layer of sunshine for a gulp of air. Over and over again I’d douse myself in water, waiting for the final trip that felt just right, felt like enough, but it was never enough. Because I’m not a fish like you, and I’ll never be able to explain why it was so satisfying trying to drown myself.

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Kassie lives in Brooklyn. Her writing has appeared in Cauldron Anthology, Coffin Bell Journal, Philosophical Idiot, and others. She enjoys true crime podcasts, mangos, and cats.

Thomas Park is a multi-disciplinary artist, who lives with his wife and their cat in the Tower Grove South neighborhood of Saint Louis. For visual art, Thomas uses a combination of acrylic and spray paints while creating, in homage to street art. His prints usually involve combining 2 paintings digitally. Thomas’ music and videos combine various and often found or assembled sounds and footage, covering genres such as drone, industrial, ambient and soundscapes.