party shrimp

give me a pound of shrimp
I tell the
fish person behind the counter,
who
happens to be a very
short woman
from south east asia.
I can see the top of her head.
what kind?
she yells over the counter.
I look at the rows of shrimp
on ice.
they're from everywhere.
some cooked, some raw
some still in their
little grey shelled
jackets.
it's the ellis island of
shrimp.
I don't know, I tell her.
cooked, no shells
and big.
okay, she says. pulling
out handfuls of shrimp
with her blue gloved hands.
party tonight?
we'll see, I tell her.
the day is young.