One-hundred and Twenty-five: Twenty-five

We rolled down the hill in our recycled vehicle
(we’re a very conscientious family, we are)
chasing each other’s words with thoughts,
laughing at things that weren’t particularly funny,
and things that particularly were.
You offered me some money and then took it back,
You should be more independent, you said,
and my voice went indigo with indignity,
and I felt a tantrum tingling through my
quarter-life crisis veins, but then I saw
a lone mandarin somersaulting the roads’ horizon
and we both laughed and followed
the miniature sun bumping along the tarmac,
happy and askew, and you swerved a little.
I suppose that sometimes, life curves to avoid
random fruit dropping in your path.
You asked me to look back:
Did we squish it?
But we missed it.
It was still bouncing in its orange glory,
stubborn and naive, heading somewhere
it didn’t know.


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I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

2 thoughts on “One-hundred and Twenty-five: Twenty-five”

  1. That was really, really lovely. Such beautiful words. It’s like it captures those moments when you’re rolling along a road, only a horizon in sight and a sunset in the sky.

    1. Thank you Kate-that-link-herself! I love that you made the connection of mandarin and sunset… I didn’t; it’s always lovely when your own poetry surprises you.

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