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punch bowl

i now own a punch bowl.
this punch bowl makes me think of my mother and father in the late 60s, early 70s
and their finger poppin’ parties. Back when adults were still cooler than kids (although the kids were gaining ground).
I remember how limitless and cool adult life looked. They smiled like gods. And they danced with irony and total commitment.
Our definition of cool, back then.
And it looked to me like they were having the best kind of fun. Mysterious fun. You could see it in their sly grins
when they walked in or out with someone they met by the punch bowl at my parent’s party. I am haunted by those sly grins like
like glimmering lights in the distance waiting for me to grow up and join them. Those sly grins were proof they knew of things sweeter than candy, rides wilder than merry-go-rounds, smaller, more intimate Disneylands.
These toe-tapping finger-poppin’ drink clutching gap-toothed be-hatted gods smiled slyly while telling me don’t hurry to get old. Which of course I couldn’t hear.
This saturday i’m throwing my own little punch bowl party and i hope there’s an 8 year old in attendance
who will note my sly grin and look up at me like I’m a drunken loud mouthed god and not just some old cat trying his damnedest to be cool.