back when they walked in.

Straight past the buggies and the baskets,

past the candies and the creams,

the bakery fiends and cold cut queens.

I want the moment when she was leading him,

when the him was tethered to his screen

and she was slipping through their knees

on urgent mission raspberry.

I want their carpool conversation,

their school is just right there

between the childbearing homes.

A daisy chain of vehicles riding up the curb,

all the moms and dads and suburbans

purr exhaust fumes out their end.

Lobes all plugged with pods

when their child climbs on in,

on into his truck,

flailing forwards for the belts,

the latches,

the handles,

the ruts,

the something to grab hold of,

ascending with no grace.

A grotesque grimace on her face

when she's finally done it,

plopped upon the cab of daddy's

hundred-something truck

when he blurts out a ... .

Stuck now in the back of the line,

children frantic from the hive,

most of whom like her are five.

Teachers waving, rejoicing, "Bye!"

and instead of "Hello" she says to him,

"Daddy, daddy, daddy, Hi.

I want raspberries.

Mommy, mommy, mommy

lets me raspberry high."

And with a mute and a pause

and a turn around,

"Oh wait, what now?"

He's calling his wife and his wife calms him down.

"What are you accusing me of?"

I've given her no weed.

This is you, this is you

who planted me with seed,

who gave me edibles to eat.

The sex was so damn sweet

and you know, you know

that's what I need and

she wants to be me and

so she sees me, she can see."

So I said, "Here child, take these like me,

it's just a harmless raspberry.

‍

"Take her to the store,

there's cartons at the door."

And away

and away

and away they went

and with a bloop and a blop

I was stealing people's rent,

cashier number eight,

ten or less I'll take.

And here comes this girl,

oh so blonde,

she's smaller than a fawn

and pulling at her brawn

who is a big old man

giving me a yawn

and she's pushing,

pushing,

pushing her raspberries along,

my belt is not yet on.

"Give the man a second,"

says this booming voice of God.

"Hello there." I smile.

The girl gives me a nod.

Just one second,

I'm still logging on.

And I take her carton,

beep it to the left,

her face is on my counter

and her eyes are screaming,

"NEXT!"

This plastic tin of raspberry din

is a dollar something six for ten

and he blurps and beeps,

notions, no receipt.

Now he's ahead of her

and she's waiting still for me.

"Do you want a bag?" And nodding,

she's about to cry,

when in deliverance

she's very quick to try

and to try to pry open

that lid

and you'd think

this girl was high,

‍

plopping raspberries

in her mouth

waving to me,

"Goodbye."

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