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THE WATER BATTLE
I was the dishes while my mother roams around
behind me like a buzzing bee.
I felt her approaching me from behind,
like a shadow passing over me,
and she starts talking.
We bicker about the silliest thing
and like a drizzle of rain from the sky
I felt a drop land on my arm.
Is it from the faucet as I rinse the plate in my hand?
No, it is water being flicked at me
from my mother standing next to me.
Of course I flick back,
reciprcating the childish gesture.
Back anf forth we toss water across the room,
ultimately escalating to throwing a whole cup
filled with water
at my mother.
The grand finale,
a cannonball spalsh with the jerk of my wrist,
inatantly soaking my mother's magenta pink shirt
and igniting blasts of laughter from us both.
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