My Eyebrow Curls Like the Devil’s 1955

This is the second in an occasional series of autobiographical poems….

The Gaylynn was only a quarter;

The serial started at ten.

Saturday, every weekend,

I walked to the movies with Ben.

The game, as we walked along North Street,

To walk swiftly, missing each crack.

And Ben, whose stride was much longer,

Left me hurriedly far in the back.

Head down, and stepping with caution,

I ran into a classmate named Sue.

I stumbled, and stammered profusely,

For beside her was CynthiaDrew.

Cynthia was covered with fr...