My Robot Is Pregnant theme song!

Guy with a beard so long even he forgot what he looks like comes through every Sunday.
The middle aged Asian guy who wears a baseball cap without mesh or the plastic strap in the back dug through about two hundred chopsticks I had and must of found two pairs of ivory ones. He paid $15 dollars for them then left. Shortly thereafter a swarm of Chinese came through and looked only at the chopsticks but no one bought any more.
There’s a guy that always comes through looking for guitars and surf boards and you wonder how such a drunk could be awake so early Sunday morning. His nose is so purple it may attrack fruit flies and drop off his face.
There’s four or five brothers I see every time. Always makes me think of Piney Point Maryland and shipping out in the merchant marines when I work with black guys.
One guy, must be fifty, comes out with his Momma every Sunday and sets up clothes. He takes a chair and sits down with the AM on and hears a ballgame while she gets mad at people, telling me I’m in her spot when I’m not, yelling at a guy over a yard of fabric that he doesn’t come out there to tell her what her prices are, it’s 8 dollars or just leave her be.
I can’t picture a single Chinese seller. I know the Mexican couple next to me, the afghani who sells in the back row, the Russian kid who specializes in lighters, the market is like an ugly stingy version of Benneton where no one wants to give you what your sweater’s worth.