Only Memories

The stove didn't work and the oven was storage

Beans 'n' wieners came in a green top

Spaghetti and meatballs had a red top

Whatever was in the blue top didn't matter because it wasn't spaghetti and meatballs.

Fast food and Circle K runs provided "home" meals.

Pick a VHS from the wall of brittle plastic classics and watch while you spill red sauce.

Finish your food and play in the 115 degree heat.

Hose water tastes best during summers.

Something refreshing about the taste of plastic; Like unpackaging brand new water.

Can't leave the yard because "Boy" the dog attacks innocent strangers.

There goes one now.

A mother throws a brick and lifts her daughter off the ground.

I hope they get out okay, but everyone knows better than to walk in front of that house.

Miss June next door has a wrinkly mean face, but a nice looking home.

I bet it's really clean, but I'd never want to step inside (She hates kids).

Styrofoam cups roll down the street and plastic wrappers dance in the shimmering heat.

Cars crawl by, blasting their bass.

The driver holds a screeching burnout for more attention.

Mom says not to look them in the eyes, so I pay them no mind.

It's time to take the bus to go get groceries.

Seats are comfy and the passengers are quiet.

Mom gets meals while I go pay the electric bill.

Flies dance around the produce

Fiesta music plays in the aisles and bright, attractive pinatas dangle above

Mom pays for what she can in cash and uses government money for the rest.

Can I have the quarter for an NFL football helmet toy? They might be worth something one day.

"Dammit! Another Green Bay helmet".

Return home and unload the groceries.

I dream what a different life in another home might be.

Would I be happier?

Would I have better memories?

I reminisce fondly.

There's not a single thing I would have changed.

Except, the people that live there now have painted an Aztec warrior mural on the wall.

I would've liked that.