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Anita
Childhood on a lazy summer afternoon
Sucked reflectively like a sweet sour ball
In a dusty Orange Free State town
Skinny dipping in the river
With the turtles, the fish and Anita
Anita of the long hairless legs
Clad in clinging water wrinkled panties
Splashing in mid-stream
Performing kaleidoscopic somersaults
Painted toenails pointing to the overhanging branches
Giggling with bubbly glee
At some Grade Two joke
While high in the sky a small plane
Drones its way to Bloemfontein
And the scent of a distant braai
Reminds us that the peanut butter sandwich
Eaten at break was already long ago
It’s not there anymore, they say
Innocent corner built up by multiracial progress
Or turned into a garbage littered picnic spot
But I say it lingers on
Preserved in a fading brown rectangle
And Anita…does she smile at her grandchildren
Or dream a giggle in the clouds?
© Johnmichael Simon
2004
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