(for Betsy – something happy)
Satin sport shorts
outlining tanned thighs,
they sat along the field’s edge
watching the drum and bugle corps boys
as they practiced.
Not wanting to wear hats
and risk messing their ponies,
they used their hands as visors
while they assessed the most committed,
best smile, astonishingly athletic,
biggest show off.
Summer school typing class done,
they’d bike over and drop in the grass
to lose hours
deregulating their heartbeats
from the onslaught of a seventy-two
steamrolling horns, a line of drummers
that spanned goal post
to goal post,
and teen boy testosterone
too abundant to quantify.
April 10, 2014
NaPoWriMo Day 10