Poem of the Week 06/05/18
She told me she was attracted to a boy on our blanket,
a solid, dark-haired, dark-eyed, easy-going Armenian-American,
but my eyes would drift
over to her blanket
which held the dreamy Lolo.
Just for the sake of this poem,
try to remember a crush on the beach
and see him again
in my mind’s corrupt eye.
And try to hear the cawing of seagulls
muffled by waves
and a breeze that dried sea-wet skin,
and attempt to re-create Lolo
lolling like a minor Apollo
with his slender torso,
his insouciant smile.
Sand on concrete sidewalks
ending in the ocean,
dull thud of bare feet on wooden boardwalks,
a hazy horizon seen through sunglasses
filmy with salt,
friends frozen in time as teens,
no great opinions about life in general,
the past, in summer,
polished to perfidy.
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