I'll take a little something when I feel like it. I'll sip the gin
and taste the diet tonic. I'll squeeze the lime and lose it
under ice, round and hollow, speared through with the red end
of a cocktail straw. It's all different alone, with a book at the bar,
on the other side of youth. It'd be better with grenadine.
//
Girlhood was a dance through diner booths, elbowing brothers
over forkfuls of mac 'n cheese and floppy fries. It was side salads,
untouched, ice-sweat plastic cups with cartoon bears outside
and Shirley Temple inside. Tart 'n sassy. Cherry red. I bet them a dollar
I could tie a soggy stem into a knot with my tongue. It was my magic trick.
//
In the book I'm reading, Shirley Temple tells me she's been bad.
Crying isn't cute, even if you're three, even if you can tap dance
circles around the big boys of Baby Burlesks. So they lock her up
in the soundbooth. They give her a block of ice for a chair and she sits,
cherry on top. And then they make her dance some more.
//
My brothers have drawers full of crinkling candy wrappers. They drink
milk by the gallon and never worry if it's whole. I stopped
when I outgrew my favorite shirt. They still order Dirty Shirleys and shoot
their straw wraps over dim bar tables, they still stick out dyed-red tongues.
I sin. I steal a sip. I only taste the sugar now, on the other side of youth.
//
The little lady lost her job when she couldn't shake the baby fat.
The little lady had to wear fake teeth to fill in all her baby gaps.
The little lady was poked and prodded, tugged and tickled, cast aside.
She made those big boys money and they hardly left her any. They even
took her name and poured it over ice. Cherry on top.
_____________________________
Author's Note: If you also want to ruin some childhood memories, the book I'm reading is "Child Star" by Shirley Temple Black. She turned out just fine, but that's more a credit to her than to the Hollywood machine that built her up, abused her, and spit her out like a cherry pit.
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In The Blink of Her Eye
Time itself bent and morphed, allowing Shannon the precious seconds needed to see and adjust to the disaster unfolding in front of her. Each frame showed minute details she would have missed had the clock not slowed down until she heard every click of the hands as they swept toward the end of everything. If only she was being melodramatic...
By Lisa VanGalen5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (24)
Congratulations! This was a fantastic read.
Congratulations, Yahhh!!!!!👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽💗🎉🎉🎉
Congratulations on the win, Suze! This is truly a phenomenal piece!
Congratulations. What a beautiful piece. I loved all the red references. If MAC made words - this would be their campaign.
Crikey. Good work.
Wooohooooo congratulations on your win! 🎉💖🎊🎉💖🎊
Congratulations! This is such a fabulous blending of childhood, growing up, and how different Shirley Temple had it when we were in such awe they named a children's drink after her. Beautifully, done, Suze!
CONGRATULATIONS 👏🎉🥳🎊🍾🎈👯♀️ I loved this, especially at the end about little Shirley, how apropos!!
Congratulations on 2nd place win!!!🥰
Again such delightful and tasty words for the challenge
Congratulations on earning Second Place in the Snacktime Sonata Challenge. Loved your story! Thought I'd commented previously -- must have gotten too caught up in your Women Who Stay series! Great piece. Very happy for you!
Just noticed this got Second Place. well flipping done. This is just...exceptional :) Well done well done well done!
You’re a goddess with a pen. 👏 🧚♂️
Love the interplay between past and present, and "It's all different alone, with a book at the bar, on the other side of youth." is a striking image Suze. The contrast between innocent childhood memories and what happened to the star is stark, and sobering too.
Worship at the temple & watch her fall. Human beings are human beings, whether smiling dancing toddlers or those who exploit them & toss them aside. Be amazed that she survived & thrived & hold them accountable.
Suze, this is incredible! So glad you wrote this and gave us Shirley Temple's story. She was a government ambassador, but I can't remember the country she went to represent us.
This was so good, but sad. I didn't know anything about the topic and now I have to look into it.
Wow. This is remarkable in its depth. The journey from happy-go-lucky to punished and used was truly something. The Hollywood machine, and really the machine a lot of women face, is a monster. Beautiful poem!
It’s kinda sad that I relate so deeply but this is such an artful way of saying it - I almost don’t mind ;) thank you for this
Awesome work here! Love Shirley Temples!!
The block of ice for a chair is a cold, sadistic conjuration. Nice work!
Wonderful memories, and a shock of reality of Hollywood machine. Well done.
Stellar work. Love how the use of tone wrapped at the end
A bright and happy dose of nostalgia with a dash of irony. Your poem is filled with happy memories that triggered some of my own. Shirley Temple was made of tough stuff. She led a life of consequence in spite of the Hollywood machine. Judy Garland and so, so many others, not so much. Beautiful and meaningful poetry, Suze. Top shelf work like you always share!