the heel press

Poof.  Purple firecrackers dance about, all swirly-whirly above my head.  I’m not sure who is celebrating what, but I decide it would be nice to join in.  I’m especially glad I’ve brought along extra scuba masks to thank the hosts for their kindness.  The party room is a marble checkerboard, and it shines like the booty inside of a treasure chest.  There are no pirates about though, all stringy and sour-looking.  Instead, giggly people sit on giant arm chairs and golden beanbags.  Others tumble past me, turning cartwheels and walking on their hands, flipping this way and that.  A silk knapsack as big as a cheese wheel sits in a wagon by the door.  The sign says Take One Already! and I do.  I reach in and pull out a kazoo.  It is new and it is blue.  The blue happens to be my favorite kind of blue – the kind I catch the ocean mixing when he thinks I’m not looking.  I play my kazoo heartily and my “Let’s Face the Music and Dance” tune draws a crowd.  They skip around me and I feel alive.  Waiters in emerald cummerbunds appear with snickerdoodles and star-fruit and banana hot chocolate.  I plop down on a golden beanbag and the fireworks above fade.  Instead, the stars become electric, like small flashy buttons, and I rearrange the Little Dipper with my pointer finger.  A red velvet cape drapes around me and the chill disappears.  I stand up and bow because that is what I do when I wear a red velvet cape.  Such decadence, I think.  Eternal bubbles and Tupperware drums and wooden spoons bumble around in the shiny marble room.  I pick up a bubble as big as a fishbowl.  I shake it and it jingles, and I draw it in my mind so I don’t forget its beauty.  The bubble reminds me of my zebra, and I realize that I’ve left his cinnamon toast in my fort under the stairs.  I thank my hosts.  “I had a wonderful time.  My favorite part was everything.”  They smile and look beautiful in their scuba masks. And before the fiddlers have fled, I return home while I still have got that shine.