The sweet tang of fast food barbaque
washes over my ready tongue
trying to fill the longing for lost memories
--
The back seat of the family car parked facing Pike Lake,
the sun's rays surfing it's slow currents.
Mama would sit in the front seat
sharing french fries with baby brother.
And how big I was, my own chicken nugget happy meal
with barbaque sause for dipping, or rather mess making.
Sticky hands would open car doors
and skinny legs would run for the park.
Plastic x's and o's for tic-tac-toe playing,
swings for flying past the clouds,
and a merry-go-round for scrapping knees.
We would run, slide, kick, fall, play,
until our little arms and legs couldn't any more then,
Mama would drive our sleeping bodies home,
all in a day's work.
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