Instant Eggs

At my daughter's insistence,
I stir in Packet One,
set it on the windowsill,
and wait.  Tomorrow,
Magic Package Two
will bloom in this water.
I know their jerky swimming,
the aquatic breakdancing
in the PVC aquarium.

At nine, Belinda and I run
through the grass.  Mom's voice warned us
away from the thistles.  Heat
surrounded our heads, forcing us inside.
My friend; overheated and rosy-brown,
was so thirsty, she swallowed my Sea Monkeys.
Crowns, scepters, tri-pointed heads swirled
down her throat.  She didn't choke
or mark the brine shrimp strain.
Silent, I wondered if they'll spawn
in her intestines and hatch generations.

In high school, she holds
a baby girl, and after ten years
so do I.  My daughter wheedles
to study punctuation marks row their legs,
smiling in robes among plastic
castles; pristine and untasted.