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Daydream of Drool
Her water colored bicycle has many dreams
Of pin-ball, and ping pong, and pool;
I used to sit across class from her and pretend
That I could know her in a swimming-pool
Of flushed and bright eyes,
The marriage vows we could say underwater
As the daylight swam around like a coy otter,
The elusively effluvious life, the hunger of
A birthmark; Oh, what a fool. For instead,
I would just slip out of class and tight-rope
The canal, swing in the park, the elliptical stretch
Of a canary on a string- She rode away to marry
Better things, the bell on her handlebars a-jingle,
and I was left alone in my classroom, scribbling
The homework of pastel numbers, my cheek
Bejeweled by a daydream of drool.
poem
by
Bret R. Crabrooke
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