BLOWING STRAWS

At Walgreen’s soda fountain
when Mom worked there,
so much fun!
In a booth, 
we ripped open the paper,
slid it down the straw,
just past half-way,
how far was key.
Accordioned the paper, 
blew hard,
sent the missile into
our laughing faces,
my brother and me.
Mom taught us
like a little kid.
What other Mom somersaulted?
Barefoot belle.  
Mom blew hard
giggled, laughed,
her Lana Turner eyes flashing.
Direct hit to the nose!
Before the divorce
sometimes Dad showed up. 
No! No blowing! No!

Originally published in Eskimo Pie