Spiderman Candy Sticks — Youthful Smokin’ of Unnecessary Beef Gelatin
⇾ The Person and Place:
// Boy #1, sitting on the far left of the bench, stares across the street to see Girl.
The Target of the Stare:
// Girl, who holds a Spiderman CandyStick between her freshly-glittered fingertips.
The Thought:
// She’s the boss. Stamp on my fingers. Dig those pinprick heels into my knuckles and scream at me with the language of love. Run those sugar-coated sticks along my inner thigh and then stub them right into the corner of my left eye.
***
⇾ The Person and Place:
// Boy #2, sitting in the middle of the bench, legs spread, one sock higher than the other, more subtly glances across the street to see Girl, dancing his looks between the rumble of cock-blocking cars and her.
The Target of the Stare:
// Girl, who holds a Spiderman CandyStick between her freshly-glittered fingertips.
The Thought:
// Darlin’ must be French with that kind of air. Poise beyond perfection. Back upright - stilted into position, purposefully held for the watchful — yet appreciative eye — of moi. The way she holds herself streams into her candied cigarette. Each breath is a moment of realigned elegance.
***
⇾ The Person and Place:
// Boy #3, sitting on the far right of the bench, stares more intently than the rest. He sees more of this girl than she sees of herself. He knows her, through and through, without even exchanging a pleasantry.
The Target of the Stare:
// Girl, who holds a Spiderman CandyStick between her freshly-glittered fingertips.
The Thought:
// I see more of this girl than she sees of herself. I know her, through and through, without even exchanging a pleasantry. I know her history. I don’t know specifics — I’m not that good. But I know her, nonetheless. I understand her. I can read her like a love letter blasted through a hurricane. Me, the hurricane’s all-knowing eye. She’s been loved. Lost that love, too. He didn’t appreciate her for all she was — wouldn’t give the reins some calculated slack. If she were mine, she’d have that freedom to roam — I’d always reel her back in, for she knows that I know her, and I know that she knows that I know her. I’d be her gravity as well as her oxygen.
***
⇾ The Person and Place:
// Girl, standing on the other side of the street, holding a Spiderman CandyStick between her freshly-glittered fingertips.
The Target of the Stare:
// Boys #1, #2, #3, who unsubtly sit across the street from her, throwing different glances her way, hoping to catch her attention.
The Thought:
// Why do these Spiderman CandySticks have beef gelatin in? It seems unnecessary. I’ll ask papa when I get home. For, you see, dearest reader — as I turn to you and address you in the style of Lemony Snicket, I ask you — I’m only nine — how am I to know such things?
