Behind the Cummerbund
Two fifteen-year-olds stood in a dark hotel parking lot.
Laughing teenagers passed with their dates, to their cars.
The pair stood, awaiting her parents -
she, in a shiny, pink, satin dress, a corsage,
and a gold chain tracing a meandering path on her smooth neck,
he, in a crazy tuxedo,
and a strange garment - a cummerbund.
Earlier, clumsily, unnerved, and threatened by a huge concentration
of alien creatures, that is, fellow teenagers,
he had tried to navigate a new kind of obstacle course,
at one point, emulating something called a dance.
Her curves gracefully undulated,
stretching the fabric of her dress.
He hadn't talked much that night.
Now, in the dark, away from the crowd,
he spoke,
placing his hands around her waist,
and feeling, through slippery fabric,
something entirely new,
wonderful and real.
Copyright ©
David Crandall
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