Olives

Don’t try that, give it to me.
I’ve got no manners and many pockets
For cold pizza in warm sun.
I dig my hands into the shore, open my mouth
When a plane goes by, catching cloud crumbs.
Someone told me when I grow older, I’ll bite
People, a swallowed piece of them growing inside,
Into a squirming, crying thing.
I pretend to know it too.
But I’ll be this way forever. 
I love crowds and hate loneliness 
when it’s quiet, my mother lays back, 
I want to crawl into her belly.
It’s soft and maybe I’ll sleep.
Slap on the chest, why dig into me? 
Haven’t you done enough? A kiss on my head. 
Lying is easy, which scares me, aren’t children good?
My eyebrows are honest, the pizza still tastes of olives
Even if my mother picks them off. 
Someday you’ll like them, when you’re big.
Someday you’ll hold car keys
Someday without losing them, or thinking 
That cars have faces, ours 
is surprised. 
Someday.
Someday I’ll get dizzy when I roll around too much.
Someday it’ll all taste sour.
Someday it’ll taste like olives
But I don’t know yet, I spin and spin
And doesn't it taste sweet? 

Illustration by Quim Paredes