Pop Rocks and Pink Champagne

Pop Rocks and Pink Champagne

We giggle like 12 year olds telling fart jokes.
TV crowds counting, a silver beach ball flashing, but we’re falling backwards.

The bubbles tickle, Sarah sings “Angel”
and “fucker” is 45 points with the triple word score.

Sifting through the yearbooks strewn across the floor until your fingers graze 1994.
Lifelong friend messages fade with time and dust
while flipping through hunky teen dreams and hair disasters.

“Thanks for being a gal pal for me tonight. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
You pour another glass and I paint your toenails Sapphire Sparkle.

Five! We hop up onto our knees almost spilling the bottle.
Four! My gaudy green hat snaps me in the cheek and falls to the floor.
Three! “Forget it! Just grab the Pop Rocks!”
Two! The pebbles crackle like Rice Krispies and feet crunching bubble wrap.
One! We down our fizzing glasses of Andre’s Pink and choke back the gag reflex.

Dick Clark blurts, “Happy New Year!” as our lips collide in a fit of muffled laughter and liquid explosions.

“Don’t worry baby. Next year we’ll have a manly celebration… maybe even strippers or something.”

I flash a wicked grin. You look sternly for a moment and burst out laughing, pummeling me with a ladybug pillow.

“Happy 2006, Boo”.

Semantic
1/1/06

I’m not afraid to admit I got a kick out of reading this – was funny and fun to read.

–lhw – AKA: The Straight-faced Clown AKA: M.C. Tape-Hiss

Thanks for the compliment. You might enjoy my others as well :wink:

Fine use of language, words you can almost taste, ideas you always remember, thoughts with a personal depth I can recognize.
“Hey, Mr. Harpo Marx,
Play a tune for me!”

You know, I just kept coming back and back to this poem, never really knowing why. I always assumed it was the title – which is excellent by the way – but there really is something more here. I must say, that every time I came, I was always turned off by the fart joke reference, but the rest of the piece is just really too good to keep denying. I liked it, and I liked it a lot having finally read it outloud. I think it is really well written, well controled, and I applaud. And a triple kudos for the title.

For some reason, if I may be presumptious enough to infer (which I do very sparingly), the poem leads me to believe that you (the author) are either a girl or a gay guy. Now, to be quite honest, I haven’t completly decided just which one it is – so, would you clarify? (I’m leaning toward you being a girl though).

Anyway, fun, light poem, with a touch of seriousness and depth hidden beneath all the Saphire Sparkle. Thanks for sharing.

In defense of 12-yr olds’ fart jokes, I liked this poem precisely b/c it wasn’t afraid to include the reference to the pleasure of such juvenile rites of passage.

–lhw

Thanks for the praise. I enjoyed writing this poem quite a bit and will be happy to answer your questions.

Underground, it’s funny you should zero in on me as the author of this piece because I am neither gay nor a girl… but, I can understand why you would infer this from the piece. Usually when I write, I like to not only illustrate the subject matter, but also the character of any players involved.

In this instance, I was trying to show the sheer freedom and vulnerability that a relationship can convey in this particular moment of time. I am a man and am spending time with my signicant other in a way that is somewhat bent to her favor.

Think of it as one of those moments when you do what the girl wants and just cut loose and have fun doing it. Not being afraid to take pleasure in activities that would usually be gender sensitive(stuff a gal pal would do with her)… like enjoying a “chick flick” with your wife or letting a girlfriend actually paint your toenails for the hell of it. It’s something that you don’t tell your friends about out of embarrassment thinking you’ll lose man points or something, but because you were sharing time with a person that you care for, it didn’t really matter what you were actually doing.

I also put in crude and childish stuff to both show the freedom of the night as well as depict an undying need to look back nostalgically and continually let youth loose no matter how old you may be.

I guess I was trying to really elicit an awkward, uncomfortable but familiar feeling within the reader… a longing to be a part of this night even if you would never admit it to anyone else. I get the feeling that the underlying interaction is what might’ve continually brought you back even though you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

What do you think?

Well this is really good news, I am so glad to have been wrong. It just re-affirms my resolution to not go drawing inferences about authors based on their work(s). My apologies.

Clepto, thanks for opening up some of the (perhaps, hidden) subtext within the piece. The autobiographical information shifts the poem into a new light, a new context, and I am thus a lot more grateful and appreciative of the scene, though I had liked what I imagined before as well.

If you were trying to “elicit an awkward, uncomfortable but [the key] familiar feeling within the reader,” then you have certainly suceeded; and I am sure that that was part of what kept bringing me back again and again, along with the bubbly title. Perhaps, however, I have been misinterperted over the “criticism?” about the fart joke. Although, I was turned off by the reference - that Salingersque elitism that I don’t deny carrying around - I certainly understand its utility and functionality within the context. I did not mean to suggest its removal.

In fact, as I can be very picky, the only editorial advice I could offer would be (and it took some effort to find, though you may certainly disagree, and if you do, the reason would really interest me), to move “Happy 2006, Boo” - an excellent last line - one line down. Thus allowing the reader an extra second to rest her or his sparkling head on that beautiful pillow, and at the same time concluding with a bit more force. Here is even a practical concern, the length of the sentence won’t fit on most standard, book-sized paper. Now see what triviality I had to come up with? It really is an excellent piece.

I wonder what precise interaction you are reffering to? Between me and the characters, or the characters themselves? You are right certainly that there was a longing to be part of the night, I make no pretention to deny this. Espectially since my own New Year was absolutly horrific. But hey, isn’t that what the literary experience is for? Thanks for the vicarious excitement. Perhaps, even, the planting a seed. And, just to top things off with a little psychological clarity, I’m sure the mention of “Andre”, my own name, unconsciously played a role. Isn’t it amazing how much happens in such a short space? Amazing.

You know… I really don’t understand how I could’ve overlooked that detail all this time. You are absolutely correct! The last line should have had it’s own space as opposed to being stapled on like that.

I’m glad I was able to shed a little more light on this piece for you. Thanks a lot for the benefit of your subtle eye. It may be a small thing, but I really think it helps the experience of the poem greatly.

About the precise interaction… I was very much going for a somewhat fly-on-the-wall or hidden camera/voyeur kinda feel. I think that’s why I said both awkward, yet longing for involvement. These characters are sharing an intimate evening (One that would probably have been very different if it wasn’t just the two of them) and the reader gets to peer in without disturbing the mood even if they feel as though they wish to participate.

I think I said that right. lol
Anyway, hope that last bit was clearer than I think it sounds now while rereading it.