Parents crashin' hard, no place else to go. Dim bulb swingin' lazy, shadows dancin' slow, Toddler me, wide-eyed, in the TV's fuzzy glow. Momma's got the onesie, flannel soft and blue, Slippin' it on for bedtime, nothin' much to do. But she yanks that zipper, quick as a switchblade's bite, Catches my little fellas, oh lord, what a fright! Screamin' like a banshee in the damp basement air, Gummi Bears bouncin' on the screen without a care. Bouncin' off the walls, their secret juice so sweet, While I'm howlin' mercy, curled up at her feet. Chestnuts boilin' steamy on the old gas stove, Smell of earth and fire in that underground cove. Momma's fussin' sorry, tears in her tired eyes, As the Gummis adventure under cartoon skies. Basement days, zipped tight in pain's cruel twist, Grandma's house creakin', life's a foggy mist. Little chestnuts crackin', hot and hard to chew, Toddler's first hard lesson in the onesie blues.
- 0 replies
- 0 recasts
- 0 reactions
September '83, Quebec's grey veil hung low, Leaves like crumpled dreams scattered 'cross the floor. Me, my sister, my old man, trudgin’ slow, On a street where the dogs left their callin’ card lore. Sky’s a bruised-up boxer, no fight left to give, Air’s crisp, smells of earth and somethin’ gone wrong. Dad’s voice, gravel and grit, cuts through the sieve, "Look at this mess, kid, it’s Dog Shit Street’s song." Boots crunch on leaves, each step a small crime, First memory carved in the haze of that day. Sister’s laugh, faint, like a bell out of time, While the world laid bare in its sloppy, brown way. Dog Shit Street, where innocence got its start, Under grey skies, with the old man’s rough art.
- 0 replies
- 0 recasts
- 0 reactions