Tiny Plastic Pineapple

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Tiny plastic pineapple.
Translucent and awe inspiring.
Held between my small fingers.
Light shining through, radiating like a bumpy, orange sun.

My hand is buried in a bag full of tiny plastic fruit. Exploring.

Like miniscule pieces of magic,
tiny plastic pineapples, grapes, pears and bananas,
so amazing to me,
in the back of Dad’s car.

On our way home from Paddy’s Market in the heart of the city.

Sun streaming in through the window warming the glass.
I’ve been reading the Adventures of Tom Sawyer.

I’m thinking about him as I squeeze down on the tiny plastic fruit between my small fingers.

He gets lost in a cave with bats.
It’s pitch black in there.
He eats candle stubs to survive.
I imagine what that would be like as the car bumps and rattles along the road.

He survives to tell the tale.

We are on our way home from Paddy’s Market in the heart of the city.

I’ve had a day out with my Dad.
I sit in the back of his car
with a bag of those miniature plastic fruits on my lap
and the smell of turpentine, tobacco and man sweat.

It’s warm in the car but I’m thinking about Tom Sawyer in that dark damp cave.

I marvel at the light shining through that tiny plastic pineapple.

My knees are sweaty.
I’m wearing shorts.
My hair is cropped into small waves around my head.

I look more like a boy than a girl,
but the small plastic pineapple makes me feel pretty.

As though anything is possible.

November 2, 2015

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