Age eight summer: an assault of the senses.
Speeding down water slides on bare butts,
tiny playhouses and bloody pomegranates,
ruby seeds popping fresh in our mouths amid fences.
Jolly Ranchers, Tootsie Pops, to us the mini-mart man dispenses,
all freckles and sunlight, scraped elbows, crimson cuts,
we owned the world, you’ve never seen such struts!
Big talk and Big Wheels, knowing nothing of defenses.
               Golden skin on burning pavement between giggling fits to the pool,
on land we are Smurfette and Rainbow Bright,
underwater, glittering mermaids, upside down we deftly spun,
crowns of coral and pearl, endless swirling hair and no thoughts of school.
Pearly shells to cover budding breasts long into the night,
only wishing to be grown-ups, we never get to do anything fun!