PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Two years later, I often heard Lynne's surname

on the c.b. radio's channel twenty-two,
and that passing mention would always bring a smile

to my akward face, such that my best friend,

Blue Levels, often asked, "What have you been up to?"
But lust was not really part of it.

Lynne's seat in that class was adjacent to mine.

Thw first day, her metallic blue eye-shadow piqued my notice.
As we opened our textbooks to Plato's Apology,

she quietly loosened her strappy platform sandals
and wiggled her feet out of them.  She did this

every morning and, I suspected, in every class---

although we only had this one in common.

Mondays through Thursdays, she wore "designer" socks,
all sorts of colors and patterns, solids and stripes;
and one pair, metallic blue (like her eye-shadow)

with little silver spangles woven through the fabric.

(No one hollered "Uncle" in distress.)
But on Fridays she always chose

to wear sheer, tan nylon hose---
sheer to the opaque reinforcements

that sheathed the delicate norsels that were her toes.

Starward