Afternoon Revels

After school hours

found day-dreaming girls

upstairs searching

mom’s closet for memories—

the sixties spun into peach,

green,

red threads that

hung loosely on fourth-grade-straight

bodies.

Fluid movements

across hardwood floors

spinning, extending room to room,

lifted them

above the peanut butter fingerprints of Billy

and Tommy’s teasing.

They were ladies,

gentle, pale

who knew love leading pillow-partners

in sporadic symmetry.

Hidden in their

ballroom no boy could touch them,

not even

bug-eyed Brian

watching through the window,

the glass muting his

laughter.

 

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