triboluminescence

swaying before the sun-haloed cashier

I tap to pay for the wrong toothpaste -

a pre-migraine blunder, gone unnoticed

until the holidays cease. After many bedridden

hours, I unbox the Crest value pack, sweet

as Life Savers, and only when I bare my teeth,

sore, force-fit into a cracked adolescent retainer,

do I chew on the right word, a mouthful: triboluminescence.

do I recall those donut-shaped candies that spark

under the right circumstances, will glow only

when crushed. Such was the science lesson

for my 6th-grade bevy, marched into the woods

after sunset to unhatch our jaws, searching

for light in each other's faces. What sticks

is the half-shorn fear in turning our backs to

the rustling dark. Then, strength in numbers.

Nervous laughter. The counselors cut their lanterns

so we can feel mettlesome, breathe like lions,

zero in on our collective disbelief, melting.