daylight
holds its breath
darkness
keep its secrets
still as death
creation blinks
the chuff of angel’s wing
plucks strings of song
from streaming ink
on chords of wind
glory dances in
the dying turn their faces
from the wall
they hear the call
of harp and timbrel
flute and pen
White socked boys
in rolled up jeans
slick their hair and
sway and preen
while teasing,
petticoated girls
swing their skirts
and twirl their curls
in time
with the music
at the Teenage Corner.
We belly crawl
the littered path
clap hands on mouths,
try not to laugh,
beneath the porch
we quietly crouch
to watch them court,
making time
with the music
at the Teenage Corner.
Danger circles up above
flipping dimes and
keeping time,
brushing multicolored skirts
against bare legs
that tease and flirt
as they roll
with the beat
of the music
at the Teenage Corner.
We hold our breaths,
and cover our faces,
fearing and longing
for the days when
we will own
the summer nights
and the magic jukebox lights
and the dreams
of
and the mystery
and the music
of the Teenage Corner.
