Lozetta Doll
First date with a boy
Who drove his own car.
Good kid, doctor’s son.
My mother liked him.
I don’t remember the movie,
Only that he held my hand.
Afterwards, the obligatory Coke
At our teenage hangout.
And then he drove up
Into the Silverton hills
Onto a country road,
Pulled off and parked.
Before us, rippled by breeze,
Field turned into ocean,
Of golden wheat waves
In the glow of August’s full moon.
A 50s ballad played softly,
His arm, tentative,
Across my shoulders.
Everything was perfect.
Except the boy.
