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.