bittersweet

I spoke to a sixteen year old boy today, all excited about a girl.

"She is beautiful inside and out," he says,

And I remember.

 

Running through the woods in the heat of early summer,

toward freedom in a blue dress.

The babydoll kind, tied at the waist

and reaching for my knees, without much luck.

Those woods in Florida are a kind of tease-

like the fake flowers my grandmother has

the men plant around her yard

so that they will not die.

Harsh and impersonal.

I manage to find a place to recline,

to play Truth or Dare.

Fifteen and I do not care about the sharp pine needles,

only his smile.

The way he looks at me like I am Helen of Troy.

 

Time moves slowly then-

when you savor every moment and anticipate the next.

When clasping hands can turn you on

and going out means forever.

Thrills to be had,

us hitching a ride to the 7-11, Six Underground on the radio

"take me down, safe and sound "

it fades and I am on the ground.

A tear falls from my cheek through the thick air

and sacred silence for what we have done.

The world in a bedroom,

my future in a diary.

Unconcerned with grown up things,

unknowing this intensity- this contentment,

is all too temporary.

Reviews

[Arthur Henn]

Well done. I like the way you started this, using the expression with words,

"And I remember"

Pulling the reader into what I'm thinking is a journal type poem or writing that flows well unfolding to an end. Lots of feelings and emotions in this one.

This is going in my library.

Art