Raspa Stand
When we were kids,
we didn't call them raspas.
They went by names like
snowcones, shaved ice, slushies,
whiter names for
chunks of frozen water
that came in
a hundred different colors.
We laughed at each other,
so far away from today
and this place,
when we got a brain freeze,
or when the sides of our mouths
got stained grape
or cherry
or chamoy red.
And the smiles then
were just as pearly
as the ones I saw today,
deep south Texas.
So hot
but so refreshed
with sugar coated ice
in dying light of the sun.
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