Strawberry Splash
Stories from the year I turned 16, an ode to the girl that made it through
Somewhere in the year 2006
there is a girl with purple hair and bubblegum lips
to mask the scent of the blueberry kush
followed by
a Camel wide
Her eyes hide behind
cherry red heart shaped sun glasses
she tells people she wears them
because they remind her to see the world
with more love
That was a pretty lie
she never needed help
looking for love
in a world where love goes to die
Such was her problem
She wore them to hide the tears
that flowed when she saw a homeless man
with a dog, smiling
despite being stuck in 112 degrees
or a seventy-year-old woman
working the cash register at 7-11
arthritic hands handling bills
instead of someone holding her
like the fine China
she had to sell
to pay for her husband's funeral
something delicate
precious
white and blue veins
cradled tenderly
Of course
she doesn't really know
the crone's story
but she imagines it wasn't happy
nobody wants to collect money
for Coca-Cola slushies
when they should be
spending sunlit afternoons
relaxed, reading
People say
they want the real you
until she comes crawling
half blinded
because the moonlight
reminded her of that one time
she ran naked through a golf course at midnight
and this was the first time
she ever felt the starry desert wind
on her bare maiden skin
Nobody knows
how to handle that level
of emotional honesty
During winter
she drives with the windows down
and the heater on
toes sweating in her boots
while the rushing air
freezes her fingertips
Softly weeping
at the way stars look
brighter
in cold weather
And if she gets stopped
she can blame the tears
on the biting atmosphere
she thinks about these things
because she's always speeding
She thinks about
that stupid fucking bumper sticker
"Never Drive Faster Than Your Angels Can Fly"
What good is an angel
that can't fly faster
than a 2001 Saturn?
Summer months
come to pass
and she drives
to Central and Camelback
for a strawberry Italian soda
topped with fresh cold cream
She sits on the long wooden bench
her journal open on the uneven table
and as the sun bakes her arms
like cinnamon cake
her heart writes it's secret beliefs
Some guy
sees her sticky soda lipgloss mouth
and pretends he likes poetry
she’s not really interested
but flirts anyway
only for the fun of the game
When he asks for her number
she says
“I’m gay.”
It's half true
The girl she loves
moved away
a cavern grew
in the space
teenage lust once knew
She asks her co-worker
(no school anymore,
not for her)
to buy her a bottle of rum
and hides it in her closet
After her parents go to bed
she gets a glass of apple juice
from the stainless steel fridge
and uses it to chase
her fermented sugarcane beverage
They say you're an alcoholic
when you start to drink alone
little do they know
her head was full of ghosts
Before her girlfriend left
she burned two copies
of the same CD
a playlist of songs
full of ache
and what it means to long
for something you'll never have
When she works the morning shift
she passes the bus
heading toward her
would be high school
and these are the moments
when parallel realties collide
one version of her still on the yellow ride
Those early work days
ended just in time
for her to smoke a bowl
before picking up her bro
Heart shaped glasses
fending off the last rays of sunshine
Strawberry Splash gum
snapping and blowing bubbles
thinking about her hidden rum
Her and Double E
spend the rest of the night
finding secret spots
to light up the next joint
or cruising to the top of a nearby peak
after paying a stranger
to buy them some 40s
If they heard of a party
the team would roll up
a sack of dank to trade
for whatever jungle juice was made
She would hunt
for someone to make out with
because it was better than
the sorrow
of missing her gone one's kiss
Months measured
in strangers' lips
hazy hedges
driving past the edges
of her city
wild desert land
where the Saguaro blooms
white trumpets
at moonrise
and the bats come to drink
from those ivory cups
And despite her broken heart
or all the ways she tries to run
she looks at all the life
in a landscape most label
as strife
she sees the swooping bats
serpents circling in the sand
and finds her reflection there
Beauty thriving
in a world so severe
I’ve been thinking about this girl a lot lately. I can still taste the Strawberry Splash Bubblicious and tobacco stains in my mouth. She doesn’t know it, but she gave me something priceless: a journey full of shattering angst and ache that became something so much more. I think I’ll be exploring her stories more often.



What good is an Angel that can’t fly faster than a 2001 Saturn….great line. Good work.
This was such a beautiful window into a particular time. I can feel the struggle but you also speak of her with warmth. I LOVED this part…
and these are the moments
when parallel realties collide
one version of her still on the yellow ride