Smarties
Sitting on rail road
tracks, the sky a perfect purple
and violet, we crinkle the celephane
off a roll of smarties.
I pop a few into my mouth
and chew. You still insist
that they have different flavors,
an argument I'll never understand.
It's just sugar
CRUNCH CRUNCH
there's no flavor to it,
other than sweetness.
You were always stubborn,
insistent upon this blatant
falsehood, wiping the dust
from your fingers on the cool grass.
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