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RED (1 Viewer)


WF Veterans
Here I go again with my old stuff)

Oh, Kenny, what a dangerous boy you were.
Pall Malls rolled up in your T-shirt sleeve.
Jeans slung low.

“He’s a hood.” Daddy ranted. “Damned leather jacket.”

Remember the prom? My bright yellow prom gown?
You pinned the largest red carnation
to that yellow dress.

“I told you yellow.” I pouted. “It doesn’t match.”

You looked straight into my eyes with
your much too blue ones and whispered,

“I didn’t get it to match your dress. I got it to match your lips.”

Then we danced to Earth Angel by the Penguins,
and you breathed in my ear
to excite me.
Girls were supposed to pull away
in those days,
but I didn’t pull away.

You dipped me so low that my long brown hair
dragged across the floor
and you spent the rest of the night
picking out little sparkles of blue and silver confetti.

When we parked
in the driveway of my house,
your nineteen-fifty two Ford convertible
felt too hot and red inside
as our lips slid and my dress could not be managed.

"Oh, baby, do you love me?” you raged, kissing down my neck.

Yes, yesses steamed inside my throat
as our breath flamed the windows to fog.

“Get inside.” Daddy yelled, the porch light flashing. “Now.”

Oh Kenny, I’ve always liked dangerous boys.
My favorite color is red, and I still get chills
when I hear Earth Angel by the Penguins
and remember how you felt through my yellow prom dress
when we danced too close.


Staff member
I think all us girls have a "Kenny" in our memories. Wouldn't want to see him now, but that memory is locked away in a safe place. ;)


Staff member
you captured a nostalgic memory in technicolor. A picturesque moment in time- delightful...


WF Veterans
Thanks for reading guys. Memories of the "olden" days make me wish I still had a a little of that giddup I had back then. I don't know what I'd do with a Kenny nowadays. I'd probably hit him with my cane if he tried to lift my skirt with his cane.


Staff member
Apple, I love your 'old stuff'

Yes, yesses steamed inside my throat
as our breath flamed the windows to fog.

the steamy windows brought back nostalgic memories.

and boys were more of a mystery back then ...
and remember how you felt through my yellow prom dress
when we danced too close.



WF Veterans
First time I tried "parking" a cop showed up knocking on our steamed window. Wasn't as bad as "get ottta that car, longhair!" :D Guys have memories too-like those bench seats in the '57 Chevys where she could get so close you had a hard time changing gears. I should write a poem.


WF Veterans
Yes, we girls could get in the car and squeeze really close to our boyfriend. We could put our head on his shoulder and he could put his arm around our shoulder and he could drive with only one hand. The gear shift was on the steering column ( were they? even with stick shifts?) so right handed hanky-panky could possibly be accomplished while drag racing from a stop sign. Hey midnightpoet, you should write a poem. I'll be waiting....