Sometimes i think
life's grown sour.
That tongue-curling,
lip snarling,
eye twitching kind of sour.

Like the warhead candies
from elementary school.
Do you remember?
The ones with the unbearably sour outsides
but heartmeltingly sweet insides.

The ones our dads would hand us
after school
in a slick leather glove hand
drenched in rich cologne.
The grown up smell.

The problem with life,
i think,
is that someone forgot to give it
a sweet inside.
The bounty for trudging past
the vicious sour layers.

Sometimes i think
life's grown sour.
Or maybe it's just the candy.

C.J. Opperthauser

If you've any comments to make about this poem, C.J. Opperthauser would be pleased to hear them. 

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