Raspberry High | Poem

I want the backstory,
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."