‘I’m going to need 3 milks for that.’
An often-heard tune of my childhood.
Spoken by the K.iD-Professional
Strolling through any venture that could bring up hiccups.
A chocolate milk got you $3 worth off and you’re gonna get 2 dozen pencils in the green-box still.
Save the green-backs I got peanut butter sandwiches on lock in this pink-tower-lunchbox.
Not my preferred one but I got the same one in Black
Then in Grey of charcoal herrings and any time
I open lan cartera
It was known.
I had some deals to make.
Your gift of strawberry milk just got you in.
The root-beer scented pencil is yours. Never sharpened but sniffed, cured, and whiffed.
The chocolate bars were too easy.
The office supplies paid for the box and I’d buy it myself and eat those lustrous two-bricks everyday.
The almonds, the hazel nut.
The amaretto white chocolate tiramisu speciality of 2008?
Milian would always.
I’ve got a deal for you. You’ve shown interest for quite some time now.
Jelly costs extra. 1 week of milk spread over 8 days. And you buy 2 every 3 days I see you if not tutoring during lunch.
Got it?
Fan and flip out the plastic-sheethed packs I’ve held onto for 8 years.
I carry my textbooks in my Jansport like everyone else.
Your trucker prose and spring loaded canvas tug
Wannabee duffels were cute, even nautical.
We all knew the embroidery was where it’s at.
And in that.
There’s a lot of peace in this ever-continuing series of unfortunate
Pipe-dreams and lazy tunnels dug and I realized early on
And catch up much too late.
Why I was always the girl you could ask for a piece of gum and it was free.
No pencil for the exam? You better score a 93 – you get the click-mate lead pencil with a refill of lead.
Then the load holsters and backups flew off like crazy.
Bartering went to bills and bills became rose bushes that get scalped for misty dew.
What else to breathe high and wait for the bag of wintergreen mints to save me in my rusted fall blues and autumn rakes.
Amber tonic shorted too soon.
I make something for all of you.
This is the fallen Empire I built. We were never meant to go just up or to the moon.
We’ve been there and skated 720 quakes.
What else to do but roll the wheel and tumble and fall
And rick my shoe into every niche of the mountain.
Your molehills were just dusty buildup.
Someone grab the homemade eye-glass cleaner.
You got dust on that smudge too.
It was more than evident.
I needed time for a cleanup.
Not stagnancy or changing markers or disliking it or not using every fucking thing I own in one room and a small corner of the window-ed world.
Rich someday. That’s dense.
Why hit it big on one thing and wonder why everyone left you 7 years ago and you’ve been sitting on that for 5 to be honest.
Keep going. They’ll know why you saved it later.
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