San Gabriel Valley Poetry Quarterly

Kimberly Cobian
Right Now, I Really Envy that Little Girl
 
What would I give, to sit,
In the back of my dad’s pickup,
Snacking on gnats and fireflies.
To watch the rockets
Shoot and miss God’s face
In the twilight.
 
A bouquet of roses, gunpowder, and hickory pecks my nose.
 
Slurping cherry iced tea,
The bombs, like cherry bubbles in my belly,
Remind me of the years I had braces.
When soda was prohibited like 1920’s hooch,
Till they removed the bars
From around my milky teeth.
 
I was free.
 
I could eat whatever I wanted again.
I could drink soda till my belly exploded.
I could sit in the back of my dad’s pickup truck,
And chew on a morsel of that moment.