remember the flavor of last year's strawberries?
warm and sweet in my mouth
a tender wave of summer touching my mind, my memories.
do you remember
i couldn't plant the strawberries four inches apart
and i wasn't fast enough
and dammit can't you do anything right!
and you hit me, and made me eat mud
and scraped my face along the ground
and laughed at me from the kitchen
as i stood outside, ashamed and filthy.
i plant sweet peas in my garden, not strawberries.
i buy berries in the store and i eat them with cream
in front of the tv or on the back step
where it is forbidden.
i spit watermelon seeds on the patio
i leave the dishes till tomorrow
i close the bathroom door
i take a bath every day
i go barefoot on the grass
i play whatever music i like
i sing loud
i shout for no reason
i've washed the mud and blood from my face
and combed it out of my hair
and noone laughs at me from the kitchen
and though i remember being filthy and ashamed
i refuse now to be them.
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