I knew they were over flowing with popcorn –
a slight bit of movement caused one single piece
to move and next, a landslide,
then another, and another. It looked funny to me as
I would rock in my rocking chair – shaking
loose floor boards; popcorn began covering those
steps in front of me.
I kept rocking, humming to myself, waiting for
those little girls in the neighborhood to walk by
my porch and I could call out their names, offer
them popcorn – yes, I asked if they wanted
to share a bit of popcorn everyday.
stare at me, but I understood, I was this little old lady
sitting in her rocking chair surrounded by popcorn.
I thought everyone liked popcorn – I certainly did not
want to scare them. . . I waited for the day when one little girl
would stop, perhaps talk a minute or so. The children kept
right on walking and that’s when I stared to sing,
“Kookie, Kookie, Lend Me Your Comb.” I heard that song on transistor radios and it certainly caught my fancy.
My old house still stands and that old porch needs
a few coats of paint. The rocking chair is gone, but
when I gaze down at the house I wonder – when
those girls pass the house, glance at the porch, if
they smell my popcorn from the sidewalk or perhaps
they remember the song I sang – would they