Grape Soda

Walking down Court Street to the west
toward some strange place called Downtown.
In tee shirts and small shoes we arrived
at Seatons. We bought meat, grape soda and
cigarettes with Dad's money.
The walk took so long on short legs fueled by
grape soda, pockets stuffed with smokes, mouths
filled with purple teeth.

All the houses looked larger than mine
from the outside. I had not been in them yet
being too young for a paper route. I knew the
inside of one, the house of a blonde girl
with tanned skin and funny looking teeth.
She was from New Mexico and on my soccer team
in second grade. She teased me.
My brother asked me a question about
liking I did not understand. She kissed
me once on the cheek and I picked her up
and dropped her in a garbage can.
That was as close to love as a second grader could get.