Wet & Wild

Back down at our concrete heaven
corner store, where they sold my
perfect shade of unnatural neon pink
globbed over my trying too hard

scruffy men pick up trucks just off work
taught me what a beaver was, now I
don't ever wear white pants

busy seeking distractions
since boredom was the curse
of girls with too much of nothing on their minds

there in the corner of my eye
that regularly ignored such warnings
a hand, outlined against the glass
inside that dust-rimmed window of the teenage dollar store
we wasted money on every Friday

a flash, gone almost as soon as
my mind decided it was nothing consequential
surely it wasn't there, my imagination
rivaled only by my paranoia

a phantom apparition
like when I wake too soon
and the fog of spiders are still crawling
across my ceiling

running back home, my Converse tripped
me up, short laces came untied again
my face hits dirt and I'm real

Wet & Wild

the window flashes open my mind
my hand moves by itself to touch
what was long gone
seeing her silhouette

reaching...she's in the window
reflected back, only a girl about
my age, she's pretty
but she doesn't know

that shade of pink shock
Wet & Wild lip color
paints her mouth too