Two more: 4.11, 4.12

Standard

Busy Bee: Interpretation I (4.11)

You up?
You down?
You want to go for a night on the town?
How’s six?
How’s eight?
Work’s not till Monday so we can go late.
He’ll come.
Her too.
We’ll drink and maybe do something taboo.
We’ll walk
I’ll text
And make sure y’all know where to go next.
I asked.
It’s grand.
Everything’s going just as I planned.
It’s time.
Let’s go.
Trust me – I’m the girl in the know.

Busy Bee: Interpretation II (4.12)

Near the Iroquois River sits an ice cream shack.
It’s been there for thirty years, surviving cold and flood.
Open for the hot Midwestern summer and nothing else,
The Busy Bee does not offer blizzards but “tornadoes”
Which taste the same, cost a dollar more, and fill the void
With nostalgia and something resembling Oreo cookies.
Every summer the local populace buys raspberry soft serve flavorbursts, mudslides, blue ice slushies,
Then sit along the riverbank, noting the water level, cleanliness, and any interesting debris washed to the muddy banks after the latest thunderstorm.
As far as rituals go, it is delicious.

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