No snow,
but we’ve walked home
from school, so— spring.
Or fall. At the Rexall’s on Fleming Road,
on red plastic stools
at the yellow counter
you buy me the ten cent cherry Coke.
For you, the five, since all you have
is fifteen cents.
 
We are both eleven, and count the time
between our birthdays. I
am younger by two months.
 
Then to my house and the couch
in our garage, the one with broken
springs, the couch that soon
will be Goodwill’s, but not today.
 
We jump
and jump
until the dog goes crazy
and my mother calls out the window
it’s time to go home.
 
One last bounce. You say
you’ve never had so much fun
in your whole life.

© by Diane Lee Moomey. 
Used here with the author’s permission.