a piece of 6

when i was a little kid, playing with my A-Team action figures in the bath, i found myself eyeing the can of shaving cream sitting on the ledge.  

i picked it up and squeezed a bit onto my hand, it was tinted blue and smelled like my dad's hug.  i squeezed a bit more out.  it was fun to watch the foam puff up in my hand, it was so soft and airy like what you would imagine a cloud feeling like if you could bunch it up in your fingers. before i  knew it the can was empty and Mr. T was drowning in little musk scented drifts.

twenty five years later i found myself with that same urge.  yes, in a moment of silly, i emptied my pink can of silky shaving cream into the palm of my hand.  i had just finished using some for its intended purpose when i looked around, for some reason expecting an audience of curious onlookers, and upon finding no one... began to squeeze.  piles of pink foaming fun, little bits setting themselves free and floating downward in slow motion like overweight bubbles.  i was 6 again, i have no idea what prompted it but it was fun and it smelled pretty.  

i'd do it again too.