There’s blue on your tongue
And your lips that you
Lick, 8 oz later.
A drink more chemical than sugar,
A feat — Blue Raspberry in name,
Blue corn syrup in nature.
But who cares? We’re
Young, decades away from
The comorbidities that plague
The no-longer-young.
We crack another, yank the tab
Forward, then off. Flick the
Extra metal into the grass.
You stick your tongue out, laughing
And I do too — blue
Fading to purple.
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