Let me plunge 

let me wave               stir memories in the air.

My soul                                                          holds a whole
ocean  teeming with songs,            elegant and intricate

long hours                  cradled           flowers and cooling water 
I breathe in the fragrance    the night                     memories…

                         and there I am, seeing myself again 

nervous as I glance in the vestibule mirror

and open the door to our house.                            He 

stands at the bottom step behind my best friend

and her boyfriend. As I look down, he looks up. Our eyes

touch.                                     Even now, half a century later, he spills 

into my head                         when I really want to be telling you

about the outfit I was wearing—its blue-gray color 

complimented my eyes and the corduroy pencil pants 

made my legs look long and my hips slender. The boat-neck top

draped on me as though I had larger breasts.                 And the shoes—

four-toned oxford flats that I felt declared

I was more than just another cookie-cut teen girl.

In them, I’d skirr with new-found confidence from class to class

where I’d write that boy’s name on my book covers and notebook pages

for far too long after it was over.