Young Love Picnic
We were in love, so food was not important
But we brought it any way, as a pretense
That we would be eating.
Laugh.
Our mothers contributed, because they cook
And bake, and do the mom stuff.
We ended up with two baskets.
Two teenagers with a basket each.
We tried to get away from the crowd
But it was a gorgeous seventy-three degree day.
Everyone was at the park. People came up from all directions.
The peril of living in a small town.
Strange children who knew us, came up and begged food.
We gave it to them. We had given up on any romantic gestures.
All the old people were walking around keeping an eye on us.
Making sure nothing good happened.
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