sidewalk smash
on the streets, the lights go out
our parents whispering their favorite word to themselves: hush
tiptoeing over carpets of chamomile
the sky full of peanut sprinkle stars
they taught us names of the flowers and weeds
growing in the junkyard up the block
once rhinestone rebels
still glittering as darkly as the static moon
us kids, we’re prowling the block
bumming gas and stealing slurpees
filling mailboxes and nightmares with blackberry pulp
dark and sticky as the night
driving through thunder
velvet cherries hanging from the rearview mirror
neon lightning rolls over the windshield
gremlins low riding in the backseat
veins full of rootbeer and gasoline
chanting our favorite word to ourselves in the dark: schnapps
born from cheap fluorescence in the back of a seven eleven
from this cracked cement
the storm hits
we’re giving into the easy money lure of a candy cartel
holding up southport gas station for three doughnuts and a buck
tossing firecrackers down grocery aisles
on my wedding day i was promised
a pig and a plastic cupcake ring, crumpled dollar bills
hubcaps and wonderbread, bubblegum rolls and a plastic gun
stuffing our gums with wet teabags to stop the blood
we never had enough time in this town to outgrow it
got out when they warned us
jumped the chainlinks and ran the red lights
the jelly beans in our ribcage rattling when we hit the gas pedal
but we’ll be back --
these streets will never leave us
and the goons will crawl
out to play again
we wonder if we’ll end up like our parents
promising one another our kids
won’t be the ones out late
with ring pop hands and candy necklaces
or maybe their baby molars
will be sore and bittersweet
with dandelions and jawbreakers
either way, we will bathe them
in the red and blue lights of cop cars
braid their hair with rhubarb
teach them to listen to the groan
of the highway in the early morning dew
and when their breath curls up with
rusted peppermint and leather,
we will make sure they get out with just enough time left,
too
our parents whispering their favorite word to themselves: hush
tiptoeing over carpets of chamomile
the sky full of peanut sprinkle stars
they taught us names of the flowers and weeds
growing in the junkyard up the block
once rhinestone rebels
still glittering as darkly as the static moon
us kids, we’re prowling the block
bumming gas and stealing slurpees
filling mailboxes and nightmares with blackberry pulp
dark and sticky as the night
driving through thunder
velvet cherries hanging from the rearview mirror
neon lightning rolls over the windshield
gremlins low riding in the backseat
veins full of rootbeer and gasoline
chanting our favorite word to ourselves in the dark: schnapps
born from cheap fluorescence in the back of a seven eleven
from this cracked cement
the storm hits
we’re giving into the easy money lure of a candy cartel
holding up southport gas station for three doughnuts and a buck
tossing firecrackers down grocery aisles
on my wedding day i was promised
a pig and a plastic cupcake ring, crumpled dollar bills
hubcaps and wonderbread, bubblegum rolls and a plastic gun
stuffing our gums with wet teabags to stop the blood
we never had enough time in this town to outgrow it
got out when they warned us
jumped the chainlinks and ran the red lights
the jelly beans in our ribcage rattling when we hit the gas pedal
but we’ll be back --
these streets will never leave us
and the goons will crawl
out to play again
we wonder if we’ll end up like our parents
promising one another our kids
won’t be the ones out late
with ring pop hands and candy necklaces
or maybe their baby molars
will be sore and bittersweet
with dandelions and jawbreakers
either way, we will bathe them
in the red and blue lights of cop cars
braid their hair with rhubarb
teach them to listen to the groan
of the highway in the early morning dew
and when their breath curls up with
rusted peppermint and leather,
we will make sure they get out with just enough time left,
too
Olivia Alger is in her second year at Interlochen Arts Academy as a junior creative writing major. She is from the Chicago area, but has lived in Wisconsin and Minneapolis, as well. She has received three Silver Keys and two Honorable Mentions from the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards, and her work has been published in Teenage Wasteland, Inklings Literary Magazine, The Anthology of Young American Poets, and two editions of The Red Wheelbarrow. She has also received recognition as a Merit Winner and Finalist in short story from the National YoungArts Foundation. She has found that great movies, bad jokes, good music, odd dancing, and exciting glasses are some of the things that define her and inspire her writing.
