I am at the Cashier's desk waiting in line to pay for my grocery, praying all I have greedily put into the shopping cart would not be too much for my broke ass. lol. In front of me, is a rasta man, his locks covered by a ''was-white'' rag/cloth whatever he felt it was.The strands of hair he called beard, lazily entangled like lovers after ecstasy. He turned back to look at me, as if he had felt my eyes burning every inch of garment he had on.Then after assessing my goodies *yes!!! my goodies*, he smiled, arrrrrrrgh he should not have. The brown dentition with spaces all over.
