rasberries

Sour apple slices and ADD medication
Thick fog hanging on my bronzed shoulders and crocheted green scarf
Yawning and blinking blue eyes to life
I don’t want to see those high school halls but I know they are coming
Last night we ate at The Cheesecake Factory and revealed our dirty secrets over parmesan chicken and too much bread. We walked quickly around a deserted mall hunted for green eyed cuties and came up empty handed but oh, it was a lovely time.
This week is wearing me down.
I have been reading about wacky chicks in Paris and Milan who speak their minds and open cheap vintage boutiques in the center of the universe. They take off their makeup with tampons and dare to defy all those blonde haired beauty queens and bow-tied communists. They swim against the mainstream with a passion and take baths with Baking Soda. They collect iguanas and inspire the likes of Andy Warhol.
They would never let an asshole like you ruin their day.
And even when you told me you were with some brown haired sophomore,
I chose to be a wacky chick.
I chose to laugh in your face.
Go ahead; call me in a month from now. See if I remember how you used to smell.
See if I care about your apologies then.
I hope you’re happy,
But I’m sure you’re not.
Yesterday I sat in awe while a hobbling Holocaust survivor told her story in front of a hundred high schoolers in ironed pants and fuzzy red sweaters. She wiped her eyes and brought life the terror of her past. She made jokes about the return of Elvis and I laughed at the way her polish accent wrapped around pop culture references.
She told us about the selfless courage of an eighteen year old Jew. This stringy haired girl presented a dusty raspberry to her best friend on a leaf, and in my mind their world is black and white- maroon raspberry and green leaf the only color illuminated in a world drained of all color.
She represented all that was beautiful and her 83 year old skin told stories written in every pale wrinkle and saggy laugh line.
One day I will have a story to tell,
She did not make hers a tragedy- she made it an inspiration.
I refuse to live a tragedy when there are all these raspberries in the world.