red sting

Aged hands with porcelain skin,
(because ladies stayed out of the sun),
hold fast the Mecuricome bottle.

Onto my skinned knee, the red sting.
"Blow!", instructs Grandmother to my cousins.
Nine mouths blow germs at my torn skin,
their breaths sounding like a steam engine,
punctuated by giggles and shoves.

Then back to playing on the hillside,
aunts and uncles watching,
ice cream churning,
laughter and story-telling as background music
to a Southern childhood.

I survive - joyously!

hummingbird

Tiny, whirring wings,
     Sweet, iridescent beauty,
          Power in motion.

cars and ice cream sandwiches

A car is such a luxury. This is never more apparent than when you're sitting on the side of the road waiting for a tow truck. Or sitting at home hoping the mechanic calls to report that this will NOT be such an expensive repair after all. On the flip side, this leaves plenty of time for self-flagellation in regards to one's failure to maintain one's car as one obviously should have. Then this leads to an intellectual exercise in examining the role of fear and guilt in one's life, which obviously calls for an ice cream sandwich.

But, unfortunately, without a car, one cannot go to the store to buy ice cream sandwiches. This leads to a phone call to the sometime boyfriend to ask him to bring ice cream sandwiches and while he's at it, he might as well bring lunch too. This, as usual, triggers the "what are you wearing" question, a clear sign that the cost of lunch and ice cream sandwiches may be higher than originally anticipated, but not necessarily too high for one's budget. In fact, if I could pay for the car repair that way ...