School Days

I headed the school I was the school head John was the arms Peggy was the asshole and Jennifer the toes. I loved the asshole best. In my striped football sweater and in my v-neck hockey shirt I was a sight. No wonder Peggy fell under my influence. Until the accident. Then I lost her. Flags wave and banners ripple. All is lost for the visiting team. There I am in a bad seat scowling at our victory. I cannot take my eyes off her little bouncing skirt. I'm talking about the cheerleader named Peggy. That was forty-seven years ago. The Past. I never think about The Past but sometimes The Past thinks about me and sits down ever so lightly on my face— And me and Peggy and John and Jennifer, our scarves in the wind, we're speeding in the family roadster to someone's house in Nantucket and I can walk again.