KEHINDE ANTHONIA IDOWU ADELEKE

Sharp, sticky, saccharine on a small stick
Various colors bound tight in a pack
Fluid and flimsy, when cold I turn thick
Stacked high in boxes, I know they’ll be back
Grubby, dirty fingers pass me over
Clamoring and squirming just to get one
From store to store, they search like Mars Rovers
Desperately taking till the fun is done
No price too high and no flavor too wild
Paid their money’s worth I’m theirs to possess
Don’t get what they want, throw fits like a child
“We’ve given too much, we won’t be repressed”
And when all is said and done, the sun gone
They move to the next, there’s nothing to fawn
No one buys flip-flops for fashion. They’re a temporary shoe. You only wear them in the interim of walking from your car to the beach.
Daniel didn’t share my opinion. He thought flip flops were an everyday shoe. He’d even wear them with socks if I let him. He never thought shoes could be seasonal.
But my flip-flops were just for the summer.
Concert tickets from after we caught crickets, we put everything in our precious little box. Come summer, we’d come back to find nothing had changed. The summer was our bubble. But I can’t remember when I became just another trinket in our time capsule.
For Emmy
Frozen ice was cupped in my hands
The only noise— murmurs of distant vans
Leaning onto me you spoke gushy dreams: a house on a hill, brooks that stream your eyes held a quiet gleam
Sugary thoughts filled the air thick and pulpy drenching my ears
You always gripped the future tight but would you still spew all this mush if we sat through the night and I spilled all my slush?
07/25
Scrawled out on the pavement you drew your burdens. I was the first audience to your work. You cried while drawing, you hated the pigments. I thought I should wash it away. I brought soap, I brought water, but the markings wouldn’t budge. This wasn’t your art, had no vibrant hue. They didn’t use chalk, they had painted you.
For Emmy