Summer Dreams

Corruption has been a thematic.

Wherever I go, it soon follows.

It’s gotten so that I want to look over my shoulder.

I flinch now when things happen around me – as if I’ve caused them to go sour.

But it isn’t me – it’s my timing.

I arrive where there is light, or I bring it.

And darkness hates the light, so seeks to dim it.

Humans are ever gullible and believe things at face value.

Therefore, they are easy for the dark to manipulate.

An example of this is when I was a child.

I used to go down the street to the place with the chain link fence and roses.

All the kids and parents said to stay away from there because the man was weird and the woman hated you if you touched her roses.

But, I couldn’t stay away because I love flowers, and nowhere were there any so beautiful.

I used to walk or ride my bike by and wave to the lady tending them.

She’d give me the evil eye in a kind of “hiss” for giving her attention.

I never touched her roses, but would lean across to smell them.

Maybe this is when I learned how to properly appreciate them.

i used to chide the other children not to hurt them.

She’d catch me doing this, but the rule was that I couldn’t touch them.

She saw I couldn’t help myself, and that I was persistent.

I asked her questions, and despite gruff replies, was always respectful.

We began having brief conversations about the roses and her love for them.

One day, she let me into her garden.

It was starkly bare on the lawn, but with the roses all along the perimeter as a guardian barrier.

They kept the bad outside their home.

They kept the neighbors’ judgement from infiltrating.

Over time, she invited me into her home and one day proudly shared that she enjoyed making chocolate pudding pies, and gave me some.

They were the best pies on the planet! and I was rarely allowed any treats at home.

Nothing compared to how good her pies tasted.

Her brother, the one everyone suspected of pedophilia, would allow me into his side den and share all the best, cheesy sci-fi movies.

We watched Godzilla and the giant ants attack the planet, while discussing philosophies of whether the humans should be saved.

We watched the giant praying mantis attack cities, and I cried when the military destroyed it – misunderstanding its needs to just survive.

He never laid a hand on me, and we were buddies.

Then one day, I shared my happy secret with my mother about these wonderful people and how good they treated me.

She had not realized I was spending most of my time with them – instead of with the block’s mean, ignorant children.

She then went and spoke with the lady and her brother.

Then, my friends no longer greeted me with trust and welcome.

I could still come over – but no pie, and no movies – because my mother had stated these rules.

The lady became more stressed and worn with every visit.

She had opened her home now to more children, and could give pie to them – but not to me.

She knew I wanted and needed this love, more than anybody.

We had been the first to share her pie’s secret.

She couldn’t handle the distress of both our heartbreak – so pushed me away and let other children take my place.

I was now a complication with rules to follow – which she feared and resented.

Her brother also distanced, angry I had shared our adventures.

I tried to explain it was because they were so lovely, that I appreciated him, and thst he was beautiful.

He shouldn’t hide away from people.

Later, be became active and brave in the church-going community, supporting and being there for children.

But then, he felt I’d betrayed him and holed away, turning against his own identity in shame.

He became as if slimy because he wouldn’t bathe as much.

I began to feel that vibe people had spoken of exuding from him, and no longer sought his company.

It was as if he transformed into what others expected of him.

And the pure beauty of kinship’s inclusiveness faded away.

(An ode to Esther and Ernest, my first genuine friends.)