7-Up

A poem
by Chris Hibbard

7-Up

I wish you were a 7-Up
so I could pour you in a cup
and watch your little bubbles form
to the surface they all swarm
to float there for a moment, stopped
until they are gone; an inaudible pop

I wish you were a stick of gum
That I could lay flat on my tongue
and roll around between my teeth
or rewrap up to save for next week
Or simply suck ’til all flavour’s spent
to be replaced by peppermints

I wish you were a teddy bear
and in the night you’d be right there
to offer that comforting teddy bear look
during and after reading my book
And if I ever needed a squeeze
I’d squeeze you flat whenever I pleased

I wish you were a rubber ball
that I could toss way down the hall
and watch you bouncing up and down
fun by myself or in a crowd
And if I threw you long and hard
you’d hit the wall and be back in my arms

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~ by Chris Hibbard on November 6, 2008.

One Response to “7-Up”

  1. Caring, but unspeakably selfish and cruel. Hmmmm.

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