Afternoon Delight
(for Kim)
When we were young, my sister Kimberly loved
Mrs. Strohschein’s pansies too…
And the big Magnolia tree in the front yard
And the swing off to the west side of the house
And the mimosa tree in the back yard,
Where you could sit in the bowl of the tree and twirl bright pink puffy mimosa flowers and tickle your nose.
I loved all of that too, and
Stripping the mimosa leaves off their stems,
Feeling the skeleton of the leaf and the bump, bump, bump of tiny little green leaves popping off, one by one
And sitting in the Lancaster’s tree next door and twirling mimosa flowers in my nose, and dreaming of the day I would rule the world with love and be free to roam wherever I pleased,
Especially through the bamboo forest between our house and the Andrews’
And into the tiny windows at the base of the Southwestern Bell building across the street, where the men came and went every day in their big mysterious trucks with all the tools and ladders and ropes,
And under our house, crawling in the vast expanse of cool, dark earth
And playing in the church’s gravel parking lots, next door and across the street, right after it had rained,
When the dirt smelled so fresh and rich and new, that we could feel the universe in every particle and see our history in every trace of sea creatures across the tiny pebbles.
We would walk through the live-oak and crepe myrtle lined streets,
Twirling mimosa flowers in our slender, young fingers,
Sucking sweet tender honeysuckle flowers through our teeth,
Singing childhood rhymes, church hymns of love to God, and pop songs of desire—they were all afternoon delight,
As we played games of make-believe and fun and chattered gaily among ourselves, like little birds.
“His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches over me.”
The whole world sang to us and through us, and it was all love.
