The Sweet Milk

When we held hands, we drank the sweet milk. When we tried to light that Altoid tin on fire, we drank the sweet milk. When we ran into the forest and tripped on our shoelaces at the same time and fell face-first into the same mud puddle, we drank the sweet milk. When we stalked and killed a cockroach and then realized it was kind of an amazing animal and felt bad and had a funeral for it, we drank the sweet milk. When we stole suckers from the dentist who had pointy eyebrows and looked at us like we were baby crocodiles, we drank the sweet milk. When we thought the world was exploding that time we drank too much cough syrup, we drank the sweet milk. When we learned all the lyrics to Cruella DeVil’s theme song and sang it to the kids we babysat, we drank the sweet milk. When we made spooky noises inside the tunnel in the park and then accidentally tripped over a passed-out crack addict and gave the crack addict the uneaten half of our sandwich, we drank the sweet milk. When we graduated from college with a black eye because of the beer bottle we accidentally hit ourselves in the face with the night before while trying to juggle, we drank the sweet milk. When we traveled to Morocco with only a backpack and $35 dollars and a broken heart, we drank the sweet milk. And now when we try to cook toast and burn it but eat it and enjoy it anyway we drink the sweet milk. When we bike for miles and miles until the world drops off, we drink the sweet milk. When we go shopping and stare too long at the eggplants because they look somehow like deformed children, we drink the sweet milk. When we smell autumn and feel like kissing it, we drink the sweet milk. When we stroll through cemeteries at night just to spook ourselves, we drink the sweet milk. When we paint the house and don’t even open the windows for ventilation just to be on the wild side, we drink the sweet milk. When we carve a pumpkin and roast the seeds, we drink the sweet milk. When we help that old lady carry her groceries even though she looks like Freddy Krueger in a muumuu, we drink the sweet milk. When we wake up in the morning and take that dew-breath and think: “Woo-ee, I ain’t dead,” we drink the sweet milk. When we drink the sweet milk, we drink the sweet milk. When we speak in the royal we, we drink the sweet milk.