It Doesn’t Take Long to Learn, the Joke is Always on Us
On the playground, a little girl
bedecked in fragile pink frosting is doted after.
A mother in pearls, immaculate in J. Crew
clucks disapproval at every smudge.
Picture perfect takes pains to develop.
In a mad rush, the little meringue
crams a fistful of mulch into her mouth.
Runs drooling with muddy laughter
the opposite direction of her mother’s indignation.
Out of reach, with both hands paws bitter pulp off her tongue.