lemon.

Pink lemonade doesn’t taste better than plain lemonade;

It’s more refined and delicate.

It is sweeter than the original lemonade,

Like candy from a little boardwalk shop that you’d beg your parents for,

The shop that you can smell all the way from the ocean.

It’s more expensive than candy should be, but you’d make it last for weeks and weeks just to remember your beach trip.

I try not to think about that part, though,

I heard we’re cutting sugar for the summer.

It’s also not as sour as plain lemonade.

When it’s pink, nobody scrunches their face as they take a sip.

Instead they’re soothed, comforted.

Their lips don’t pucker and their eyes don’t water.

But pink lemonade doesn’t taste better than plain lemonade.

It’s prettier, more feminine.

It can match my Barbie or strawberry girl or jelly donut makeup,

Whatever we’re calling pink these days.

It looks cute in my hand next to my gold jewelry,

They compliment each other without blending together.

Pink lemonade stands out with it’s fun vibrant color,

But it isn’t aggressive or alarming,

Like the confident girl at the waterfront bar who gets all of her drinks for free.

Her crop top is a light color instead of a dark one and she has wedges instead of heals;

She’s original enough to get attention but wouldn’t dare to be a different size or shape than the tried and true,

Because pink lemonade doesn’t really taste better than plain lemonade.

Yet for some reason, I try to order it every time.