Soda Shop Memories
Promenading along Ashley Street,
wearing Jumbo Rollers covered with
pretty floral sheer scarfs,
chattering, giggling, being thirteen,
trying to pass for sixteen,
hoping the boys in their bat-winged cars
would wave and holler and make a big deal,
as soon as they caught our eyes,
we'd pretend to ignore them while our
shoulders pulled back, heads held high,
and our mohair sweatered chests protruding
for all the world to see.
If a car stopped our hearts skipped a beat,
we'd lose our composure and act very young,
running to the neighborhood soda shop
where we'd find "protection," someone's
older brother who was sipping Coke and eating
French fries with his date while the Jukebox
tunes were blasting, feet were tapping
and where Pinball Machines were ringing,
these were our soda shop memories of long ago.
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