Sixth Grade Education
Debbie was the first at our bus stop to wear hiphuggers.
Her black leather belt was wide as a handspan
and as the steel buckle winked beneath her bellybutton,
the boys held their books low. They looked stunned,
as if they had blown out birthday candles, then found
a playmate whisked from a sticky page to their front door.
Platform shoes that weighed five pounds each raised her
to heights beyond penny loafer feet. They made her flared
cuffs flap about her ankles, till she paused behind a bush
and asked for a light. Bold as her new breasts, the boys
fluttered close, flames raised, knocked dumbstruck
by her curly shag haircut and a scent they couldn't yet name.
She accepted Tom's match and the rest guttered out. Pale,
skinny, smart Tom who just last year passed a note to Vivian
that said he liked me. I thought we would speak this semester
but instead, I stood quiet with the other little girls,
our books held high and tight across our shallow chests
as we studied Debbie's eyeliner and the tilt of her red smile.
Cross-posted