In the 2nd grade
a puppy love
crush on the
teacher steeped
deep in me
to my delight
her clear eyes
recognized the
promise of a
chubby boy
in all of his
quaint simplicity
her gentle
voice, friendly
and firm, filled
with caring instruction
the giddy class
attuned to her fresh
brunette bouffant, bunned
and perfectly coiffed,
speaking style and
youthful whimsy,
not a strand of hair
out of place
her svelte figure
flowed through
classroom isles
filling the space
with scented graces
of prescient carnations
that afternoon she
was abruptly called
from the class
when she returned
our beautiful princess
was sobbing
she concealed her face
then turned her back
on the class, crying
in a corner to dismayed
blushing blackboards
regaining composure
she turned
exposing her tear
stained cheeks
and dissheveled hair
to an unsettled class
“the President
hurt his back” she
announced. “He’s
in the hospital.”
Whoa… I thought,
the President hurt
his back. That's
terrible I surmised.
our beloved teacher
dismissed us
and resumed her
tearful grief
when I arrived home
my mother was
sitting on the bed
weeping. “President
Kennedy is dead”
she blared.
my mother’s rumpled
housecoat and
tousled hair flattered
her flowing tears and
anguished sobs.
the tears of women
marked the end
of many puppy loves that day
Bob Marley & The Wailers
No Woman No Cry
Oakland
10/15/13
jbm