Bubblegum Baby (2022)

For a few months of grade school somewhere between

Mismatched socks and argyle sweaters
I was obsessed with Hubba Bubba Bubblegum.
Grape, sour watermelon, blue raspberry,
Anything that could blow double bubbles and eventually get
Stuck in my straw-style hair.

I’d practice outside for hours
Trying to get the perfect bubble inside a bubble,
Like Dad could
But they always popped too soon.

Mom hated bubble gum.
The smell,
The texture,
The sound of smack-smack-smacking
Made her gag like a mouthful of maggots.

I’m older now and I can appreciate
My bubblegum phase for what it was,
A stretching, sticky mess of figuring out
Who I was and who I thought I wanted to be.

Somehow I couldn’t fit the two bubbles together,
Who I was took up too much tack,
Always smack-smack-smacking
Their opinions together and popping into conversations without warning
Or approval.

I spit them out,
The person I was,
They lost their flavor too soon like Fruit Stripes
Blew the worst bubbles like Trident,
Always comparing themselves to other Hubba Bubba Bitches.

I find myself wishing I could relive those days on the porch steps,
Blowing bubble after bubble,
Chewing until my jaw aches,
Trying to stretch
For something, someone, some desire

And I deflate just the same.