Soda

When I was nine, I was reading a brand new book and drinking soda.

My brother’s crooked elbow took away the bottles balance

Viscous bubbly liquid covered the page like a storm in the sky

 

Soiled paper rested in front of me

The bottle spun in generous circles

Hundreds of words smudged like mascara

 

Ruined literature, a good book

Paper now the weight of a brick

Sweet, sugary smells wafting like air fresheners

 

Sorrow filled me, anger too

Pages, held together by a thin spine, engulfed by the viscous liquid in a fluid motion

 

Revenge filled my eyes

The soda spiller would pay!