mixing paints

the man in the paint
store tells me
that his wife is bored
with her job.
it is too hard
and monotonous
for her, he says.
she comes home
angry all the time.
he leans over
the counter
to grab a gallon
of paint
and begins to add
tint to make it
the color that I want.
she wants to get
another degree,
he says, go back
to school, then find
another job
that she won't be
bored at.
he hammers the lid
onto the can,
smoothing a squared
sticker onto
the side,
then puts the can
into the shaker.
my wife is very unhappy,
he says, wiping
his hands
with a rag.
we both unconsciously
listen to the rattle
and hum of the shaker.
I don't know what
to do, he says,
looking past
the shelves of cans
to the street
beyond the window.