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.