Stuck Moment

The pink wad clings

beneath the rough wood, tacky and tired,

a flattened bubble pressed

into splintered shadows.

A kid blows bubbles nearby,

sharp pops slicing the air,

a sour taste rises,

stickier than I remember.

My shoe drags through gum,

a slow pull, a reluctant pull,

a little regret stuck

between weight and movement.

I stand, caught in that moment,

the taste lingering,

like words I never said,

stuck and stretching thin.