An Episode of Orange Soda

After school, there are citrus hues
And the tension flares between us
At least,
That’s the spark of thought
Rubbing against my wooden brain             
                   r           d         l
                   u                    e
Heat            h                     s          the 
Burger King sign we made our personal bus 
Stop! Your madman grin, chapped lips so thin, turned
My Whopper into worship

“Bus stop!”, we yell in unison 
Pubescent vocals scratchily sever the air in half
Equidistant, my house from yours 
Twirling out of ugly uniform into hand-me-down magic 
Darted the street adjacent to meet your red-hot anticipation
I           e        n          t          e          r

Traversing shadowed hallways painted with humidity
The portal of a back room ushered in an intimacy, (unhurried)   
Seated on the carpeted floor, legs folded like Yogis 
You were always player one, so I willingly followed your lead
Your Analog joystick in hand 
What can I say? You’ve got GAMEBOY
Def Jam, your uncle’s PS2, controllers plug the CPU
Mashing buttons, trash talking, two lunatics just skylarking   
Playtime cut short – your grandma’s shrilled voice
Summons you like a faithful, family dog 
A list of snacks, the shirts on our backs
And now we’re off to the food store
The sun is out in full regalia, completely unbothered by our perspiration 
We joke about the nonsense of life and hustle back before its annihilation 

After our short-lived, sweltering labour, before the air got mosquito-flavoured 
We loiter on your grandmother’s wall
Guineps ornament her nearby tree 
Summer teasing through the weather
There’s a stillness unshakeable
The evening sky looks like Daphne Blake, but there is no Mystery Inc.
What’s written in this moment are two smiles everlasting, forever in the distance
Everything is bro-mantic 

We toasted our bottled sodas to an afternoon well-spent
But then, you did that unhinged thing that made my mind backbend
After a joke, you took a swig of your fizzy, orange soda
Your tongue gnarled inside the bottle and I thought my life was over
Wanna Fanta? Couldn’t an-sa!
My head, a campfire burning wild
Ashes to the innocence belonging 
To Mother’s once queerless child
Flushed with sweat, blush pink with heat
That visual got me out my seat
Hands concealing my proof of life
Startled, steaming, anguished screaming,
“Why’d you have to drink it like that?!”