Chocolate Smeared Faces

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It was his seventh birthday with stale halos

of cigarette smoke, and empty whiskey bottles

leaning against the chocolate covered birthday

boys cake table, with mother cutting even slices,

so no child would whine for being cheated of

licking their fingers of less tasty chocolate icing.

 

Happy Birthday was sung by half-drunken parents,

while the rest of us ran around the table chasing

each others balloons, pretending to be Kings and

Queens wearing crowns in disgust peeping from

behind colored curtains.

 

It was his day, this sad boy who’s seventh wouldn’t

go away from the chatter and chirping of Happy

Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you.

 

His big ears were hurting from the sounds in this

crazy house of mirrors that reflected back children

with chocolate smeared faces.

 

He ran from the house with a slice of cake in

each hand, skipping down the creaking steps two

at a time without missing a beat, running in to the

street not watching for that car which sent him

flying through the air wearing his chocolate face,

and fists clutching cake while his world came

crashing down all around him, turning smiles and

laughter into screeching sounds of burning rubber

and blood spilling beside him.

 

Days and nights spent in hospital bed with stitches

butter flied to his head, while a broken boned leg is

mending in a sling slung above his bed, he lies on

starched sheets mixed with red bed sores from to

much starch they were fed.

 

Nurses in their whites circling around him with

smiles and kindness to this boy with broken leg and

fractured head, keeping a smile on their faces whilst

hooking him up intravenous to be fed, this kid with

unlicked chocolate smile still on his face.

 

A gentleman with head bowed in shame that struck

him down and put him in this pain, came with all the

toys and games for this boy, who would love to walk

and feel normal again.

 

Recovery was slow and painful for both the boy and

gentleman who together found comfort in each others

sorrow, yet a lesson was learned never to run into a street

before looking both ways in fear of becoming a boy flying

through the air with the greatest of ease, while landing in

emergency care with an unlicked chocolate grin from

ear to ear.

 

Copyright Vincent Moore 2012 All Rights Reserved.


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