There’s a man in the coffee shop. He is talking to the cute waitress who I think hates me. She appears to hate me so much that I think she must be gay. But I guess not. He is asking if she ever reads books. Oh no, she laughs. Hahaha, I wish I could, I just never have the time. She works in a coffee shop that serves about eight customers a day and is also a bookstore.
He walks back to the shelf and comes back with a book, white cover black letters like those six packs in Maine that just say “beer,” and the cover says “Oranges Tangerines Bananas” or something. He hands it to her. It is his book; he wrote it. Oh, she says, I will have to check this out. He has a black leather jacket and a tattoo of a kite.
You motherfucker with your poems about fruits. If I had one more hustler gene I’d rule the world.
delicioustacos 
Don’t get yourself down DT. You’re better than this dood, even when you’re coming down off a coke bender, simply because you do not sport a black leather jacket and a tattoo of a kite. …a fucking kite. whatthefuck. fucking eunuch.
Dude. You could totally write a book and have it printed at kinkos and just sneak it in the bookshelf before she notices, at another place I guess, and then do the same thing. You already know what chicks want to hear, with your rote dates and all. You could just write the story of one of your dates but instead of you never calling back, the girl tells you that was fun and she has to go. Or some other emo crap. Idk. I don’t read books. Obvi.
But you would write the story with fictional characters but later she’ll be like, tell me the truth, is this based on you a little? And you’ll be like, maybe a few of the parts but I’ll leave that to you to guess. Or other such nonsense.
Hank?
MOM?
awww, honey.
I live in Maine and have never seen a six-pack labeled simply “beer”.