It Smells of Summer

Chicago Childhood.
Summer Day's in 60048, the Burbs.
aka
Casa de mis padres.

fresh on a two-wheeler, two mile bike into town.
always pulling up the rear, eating my brothers dust.
my slow, unsteady peddling causes impatience.
nervous jerks down busy streets.
i keep my eyes down on the wheel rather
Out Yonder.

What Minds me to keep going:
The Candy Shop called Some Other Nuts

My main squeeze due to familiar demand
A 25 Cent Staple.
Oh those colors so true,
a slick White, Black and Red.
Beemans, Baby.


I rip the tab, and WHOOSH!
Pepsin straight to the senses.
the silver wrapper glimmering like my fathers fishing tackle...
I'm Hooked.

the ART of chewing Beemans:
You must chomp off one bite at a time.
For if you put the whole stale piece in your mouth at once,
it would be the equivalent to
a popsicle stick.

They Chew like a Necco Wafer.


But it's Nostalgia to the Core.
Triggering everything I love about

My Father and Summer.