Awkward Hoedown

On a known street in our town
where small ones come shop for fun
I’d like a jumping slinky
to give to Fred, my grandson.

A guy in segmented robe
nodded when I show up there.
I was unaccustomed to
bug red hair as if on fire.

Giving us extra tickets
to the centipede hoedown–
the group really back in town?
We go quickly through seasons.

I grabbed some for Fred and me,
sat below an old park tree
with our zoomed in point of view.
We did what other boys do:

awkward sweeping steps to right,
back as many curves to left,
then twirl your date all about.
Watch your laces! Move on now!
Spin your partner, let her go!

Fred’s studying, down on knees.
This squiggle, swing, stomp and roll–
I’m above the leafy stage.
Where’d the age of slinky go?

Advertisements
This entry was posted in poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s