we swing on a splintered porch bench,
humming amidst the sticky humid mist of July.
I try to sing a soft
“you are my sunshine”
but it comes out shrill.
so I just shut up and pucker up
for a pink plastic bendy straw.
I swallow your lemonade,
glowing yellow in a glass mason jar.
agh! oh, God! I think you forgot to add the sugar,
still gulping down the citrus swig of virgin summer. then
it hits me and I’m a goldfish:
stupefied and sour.
the juice smells like my father’s breath on vacation.
you like it that strong? oh God.
I’m gonna be sick. no, I’m not gonna be sick.
no, I Am gonna be Sick.
we’re gonna need to clean ourselves up.
Mia Valenz usually writes things at her home in Santa Ana. She attends Orange County School of the Arts in the Creative Writing conservatory, does thespian things on a stage sometimes, and considers herself to be the latina bricolage of Sylvia Plath and a Disney Princess. Her work has been published to Inkblot and tenderness, yea. Sun in Aquarius, Moon in Sagittarius, Taurus Rising. The internet knows her as @miagvalenz.