Sunday was supermarket day for mom and dad.
They would get home with depression on their faces
And packed in all kinds of innovative ways.
Depression in kleneex, canned depression,
Frozen 500 calorie fat-free packs for the depressed and fat.
Dehydrated depression instant soup with shrimp, just add water.
Sad popcorn, just stick it in the microwave and hear your life make a “pop”.
Sunday was depression sale day it seemed.
All day long 2×1, or something big.
My parents would fill their cart, all excited.
Then they would take it all home.
Put sadness in our fridges,
Wash our sheets with it, spray it all over the air in apple scented air.
And I would escape to the outside and run in the dirt.
Touch the dirt, eat the dirt, feel it crunching between my teeth.
Dirt under my nails, dirt inside my lungs when I breathed.
It was all i could afford, it was sweeter, it was mine.
They would yell my mom and dad, seeming strangers from afar
“Come play inside! Look all we got!”
Like two ogres holding a clown mask in front of them to fool me.
But i wouldn’t go back until they’d drag me.
Kids are smart
Kids don’t like bad mood frosted cake
Don’t drink someone else’s bad decision lemonade.
Kids don’t love depression scented toys.