Walking past the playground at the park
in the center of my grown up city
I hear children, but do not look at them,
their parents’ eyes seem to glare at me.
As I carry on, earbuds infecting my head
their vibrant laughter derides my shady afternoons indoors,
the things my mother said.
Once I wanted to drink grape Kool-Aid, but my mother wasn’t home
and even though she’d told me not to, I decided to make myself some.
I climbed up in the cupboard and took the faded pitcher
then I took the translucent canister below, in which my mother stored her sugar.
I mixed the sugar and synthetic flavor with a knife
a cloud of purple powder rising up.
Despite the fragrant odor, I couldn't be sure I’d added enough.
After the ingredients dissolved, I was ready to drink.
I took a big boy, breakable glass cup from the counter and washed it in the sink.
I dried the cup and set it there, beside the pitcher on the table
But when I raised the pitcher up to pour juice in the glass,
my little arms were just too feeble.
The pitcher slipped, as I lost grip and everything got wet.
As I took white cloths to sop up what I'd done,
the Kool-Aid fell in torrid sheets from the table's edge into my mouth
as warm Summer rain did years later, inhibiting a game I didn't want to play.
The water falling was relaxing and sweet for me both times.
Each accident was my momental, purple rain delay.
Mar 23, 2012
Mar 23, 2012 at 6:32 PM UTC
Walking past the playground at the park
in the center of my grown up city
I hear children, but do not look at them,
their parents’ eyes seem to glare at me.
As I carry on, earbuds infecting my head
their vibrant laughter derides my shady afternoons indoors,
the things my mother said.
Once I wanted to drink grape Kool-Aid, but my mother wasn’t home
and even though she’d told me not to, I decided to make myself some.
I climbed up in the cupboard and took the faded pitcher
then I took the translucent canister below, in which my mother stored her sugar.
I mixed the sugar and synthetic flavor with a knife
a cloud of purple powder rising up.
Despite the fragrant odor, I couldn't be sure I’d added enough.
After the ingredients dissolved, I was ready to drink.
I took a big boy, breakable glass cup from the counter and washed it in the sink.
I dried the cup and set it there, beside the pitcher on the table
But when I raised the pitcher up to pour juice in the glass,
my little arms were just too feeble.
The pitcher slipped, as I lost grip and everything got wet.
As I took white cloths to sop up what I'd done,
the Kool-Aid fell in torrid sheets from the table's edge into my mouth
as warm Summer rain did years later, inhibiting a game I didn't want to play.
The water falling was relaxing and sweet for me both times.
Each accident was my momental, purple rain delay.
MMXII
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