El Dorado-Christina Bruno
El Dorado
By Christina Bruno
Electric eyes galvanize the room with rows of white teeth
That arrange themselves deviously,
“Cree!”
Translates into wanting: a trip to the candy store,
Toys ‘r’ us, anything that she’s sweet on.
A hole is carved in my pocket.
(I have not a care, in fact…)
I feel lighter than ever.
She lounges in my backseat as we merge unto the highway,
“It’s not a bear chair! It’s a booster seat!”
Superciliously, she speaks.
Into the parking lot, adult hand, miniature hand.
The souls of our shoes scurry across the asphalt.
“TOYS”
Painted bright against a sky of cotton.
Her cheeks mantle
As she leaps over the threshold
Into a five-year old’s El Dorado.
Copyright C. 2008 Christina Bruno