First Kiss


Slowly shifted into park the Delta 88 stopped quietly
at the intersection of brick and asphalt.
Over her shoulder a single 60 watt glowed in the iron beacon.
As a brown curtain silently parted, she knew that older eyes were watching.

He was incredibly handsome, she just plain awkward.
Frizzed wavy hair held in a cheap band,
Stop sign shaped glasses chosen to match other metal,
Stainless steel bands binding each tooth,
One broken finger in a plaster cast,
A skinny arm loaded with boring books.

She wanted him to be her first.

About justbrinkley

poetry, flash fiction, prompts from a southern granny who should have been a writer.
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