Jellybeans

Somebody put ten rainbow jellybeans

in those red Mary Janes from Chinatown,

like sticky confetti clogged

in gold embroidered, silk balloons.

Ten toes squished kaleidoscopic mush.

John didn’t talk to me at the party.

He was still mad enough to scoot

pouty centimeters, sitting

on the same flaccid couch.

Before I left I found ten rainbow jellybeans

in those red Mary Janes from Chinatown

where I left them, under the coffee table,

Like capsule-sized reminders of sweetness

squashed because

I didn’t pay attention.