Just Before the Funeral

We had been on the way to the church when we found them.

The handkerchief in my breast pocket was folded just so

and I'd tried to recreate the perfect ribbon in Ashley's

hair, the way her mother used to do it, off to the right.

The case of hot peach flavored sodas were

like grenades in the trunk of my Honda I had to get

out so I could replace them with casserole.  Ashley toyed with the

foil, brushing her thumbs against the edges.  She leaned

down to smell it.

Fingers curled gently under the cardboard case I lifted evenly

but fumbled all twenty four cans, some seemed to hop themselves

out of the flat shallow pallet and all explode, spraying our

shoes and pants with cotton peach fizz.

Some others bounced once before shooting white streams

Skyward.

I was yelling, "God, fuck, Goddamn, motherfuck."

I felt like the Phoenix heat would turn

me inside out.

Ashley though, tilted her head back, ribbons dancing between

her shoulder blades -- and tried to catch candy sparkling peach droplets

on her tongue.  Mouth wide open and eyes squeezed shut like she

was screaming prayers at Jesus.