Too Old for Toys

The sun hung low in the sky like a sponge dipped in dye.

It dripped ink all over the world.

Crickets sang.

Mosquitoes attacked unprotected ankles.

Through the fog of gnats,

I could see my friend.

She smelled like cherry popsicles

which taste like strawberries.

Her hair smells like music sounds

Strawberry popsicles taste like watermelons.

We ran amuck on concrete sidewalks and peoples' lawns,

and peddled our bicycles as far as our bare feet would allow.

Rah, Rah! The parents won and the kids lost

because of those eyes in the back of their head.

Your legs broke?

they asked us all the time.

The languid heat of Thursday afternoon made us slouch

and beg the Good Humour man for ice cream.

Beads of sweat dropped like dead flies.

We turned invisible and went to the forbidden creek

to hunt for minnows.

Jenny waded in the water

unaware of the seaweed that would lash her ankles

and make her slip into a room

full of girls reeking of tear-gas perfume.

She'll have to be eaten by the sharks to ever be whole again.

J'ai dans?ans la lune et les ?iles et le soleil.

even as stucco walls close in,

and bugs weave a web of confusion all around.