Trader Joe’s: A Gluten-Free Haiku
Every once in a while, Lisa opens the car door, whistles, and shakes a few overpriced starfruit and pignolis in front of my eyes, and I bound into the back seat, because I know this means a trip to Trader Joe’s, one of the few grocery stores where you pay a little extra for the floor show.
Entitled suburbanites are snapping like cello strings around h…
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