He flashed a smile and dabbed paint,
hot, pink and lots of it,
right on my forearm.
With a giggle he turned his back
hopped from foot to foot
and continued on his masterpiece.
. . . .
'Power Rangers!" he exclaimed
as he pressed a little plastic gem,
hot, pink and glittery,
onto my hand with a blob of glue.
With a thrust of his fist triumphantly
in the air he chuckled
turned
and continued on his masterpiece.
. . . .
Winking he stirred his mango daquari
flicked some on my serviette,
hot, orange and icey,
with a small black straw.
Cheekily 'oppsing' he flicked a little more,
looked down innocently
and continued sipping noisily.
. . . .
Hyde Park he sat, stirring his semi-melted
strawberry sundae,
strawberry, pink and milky,
exclaimed loudly at the copulating couple
in front of us,
smirked when I spilt my icecream
and continued to play with his sundae.
. . . .
Ackland Street he ordered
'strawberry skinny-milk milkshake',
strawberry, pink and milky,
mumbled 'diet' and winked
offered some to me, but changed his mind
and continued to slurp intensly.
. . . .
In Sydney I sit at a Hyde Park bench
remembering the sticky times,
pink, icey, sticky, glittery,
missing my best friend.
Smile silently, tear trickling,
I continue to reminise.
