THE PINK MUSIC NOTE CANDY
I wanted the pink music note candy. I saw it in a picture book. It looked exquisite beside the illustration of the smiling child. The child in the picture was delighted; the pink music note candy was within her grasp. I knew that, the way it looked, the pink music note candy would be the sweet pinnacle of all candy taste joy, its petal-colored softness melting into my palate would be heavenly.
I went to the living room where my parents were entertaining some aunts and some grandparents. They were occupied in their austere, adult way, having coffee and talking. I told them I wanted the pink music note candy. They told me there wasn't any. I showed them the picture in the book. They told me there wasn't any.
I threw a temper tantrum, then, demanding the pink music note candy. I saw the picture. I knew it was there. I upset some of the china on the coffee table. They scolded me and sent me to bed. There I cried all night, weeping and screaming for the pink music candy. I never saw that picture again, nor did I ever hppen upon the pink music note candy. My life has a hole shorn in it now and I suspect it shall ever be so. It will always be devoid of something because of that ethereal childhood pleasure missed. The long ago tantalizing picture burns in my memory. My days are a weary quest. I crave the pink music note candy, and I must have the pink music note candy.
1993, rev 2021
CITYSCAPE
all becomes abstract and unreal
color and sense dulls
people gaggle and gobble in the wings
like Thanksgiving turkeys primed for martyrdom
life tumbles ahead in oceans
distorted through the haze of
tinted bottles
1993 rev 2021
copyright 1993 C.F. Roberts, 2021 Molotov Editions
THIS WEEK'S PLAYLIST:
REDD KROSS-Hot Issue
REDD KROSS-Born Innocent
STARCRAWLER-Devour You
