We met the summer of 1953
I a junior in high school
He a college graduate
We met that day I found a job in the city
The day I wore my mother’s dress
The day he saw me in front of
His friend’s house
Joe, my neighbor
Who introduced us
Implying I was in college
A lie we maintained
Even after I told him the truth
Following our second date
Something we never mentioned
To his newlywed friend
Phil, who we learned
Would be teaching English
That fall at my high school
Never said I was a student there
Even when we played Scrabble
And I would win
That summer we listened
To “Ebb Tide” on Phil’s radio
And I cleverly provided
A romantic scenario
Words describing our second date
To Brighton Beach, Brooklyn
Where I confessed to being sixteen
And he said with a grin, “Jailbait”
The word Phil would scream out to him
When he phoned to say
He saw me pass his classroom
That first day of school
Nervously exclaiming,
“Do you know what you are doing?”
By Florence Ames
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