Kate Greenaway's floral children's illustrations

Kate Greenaway's floral children's illustrations as vintage minty-lime toothpaste, foaming mentholated margarita freezee pop, the spit-drip down the wrist before it reaches the elbow. Grass stains, bare feet, summer freckled. Ohio, age six. Periwinkles and snapdragons along the fence, the neighbor kid (a nasty little pervert) who made me look at his ding-dong underwater whilst in our above-ground pool, my eyes stinging from chlorine, pretending to look so that he'll fuck off. Learning other families' weirdness during a sleepover, the citrus-shaped soaps you get slapped for using, the processed powdery sweetness of bulk off-brand cereal in a bag, the unfamiliar plastic-honeyed scent of the air freshener that you once saw someone's mother drinking.