Cracker Jack Junkie

by

Doug Larson

this kid was sitting on the cement by the public pool
sugar smeared face stained brown with dirt
his suntanned knees scraped white
methodically snapping Cracker Jacks out of dried Coke
and eating them
one by one with relish
and a chlorine bleach bouquet
and he was savoring them like delicacies
as if each one delivered an opiate rush of pleasure
that was too compelling to ignore

He couldn’t have been that hungry
This was Rolling Hills and everyone had money
certainly enough to afford Cracker Jacks fresh
from the box
but kids are all urchins and beggars by nature
they know nothing of decorum and pride
or sanitary practice

I suppose it was enough that he seemed happy
and completely unashamed sitting there
innocently eating as if in a dream
until his serenity was brutally shattered by a mother’s shriek
and he was pulled by one arm from the ground
with a look of frightened shock upon his face
his harmony unceremoniously discharged
by a mother unmoved by his cries
or the tears in his eyes

The Cracker Jacks didn’t last
they had disappeared by the following day
I had always assumed they had been rinsed away
but perhaps they were plucked by midnight nymphs
intent on the pleasure of forbidden treats
unmoved by such simple human deterrents
as decorum and pride

NEXT?
Why don't you look at She Typed
by: Julie Marie Durfee
from: Mesa, AZ, US

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