________________________________________________________________________________________________
I have known Sandy Beach
since before the age of two
and with down-bottom reluctance
I present this pic to you
I still dream about a lifeguard
named Bikini Jones
and about the picture below:
I make no bones
It's a crappy photo
but it must be posted
[the septuagenarian boasted]
I had my only swimming lesson
at the age of one
when dear old dad
wanted to have fun
In his arms
with soft shoulders
I could not feel
more secure
when all I wanted was
"more and more"
I was wet-tushed
on the shoreline
and it felt divine
But he dropped the tot
all of two inch
he re-secured me
and I smiled louder
than Lousiana
All of this is fact
—not a dream—
but during that "drop"
I did scream
...
It was 1950
and this poem is
soon to end.
My first Sandy Beach
was the north shore
of Long Island
Bikini Jones' birth name
was Beth
and that scream could be heard
from Montauk to Maspeth
But that Louisiana smile
did guarantee
a million beach hours
being totally
fear-free
About this pic
and memory of Bikini Jones:
I danced on everyone
of these stepping stones
***
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| © PAUL OLIVERIO © |
When a poem is "pure fact" it is less a poem
ReplyDeleteand more of a Memorex Memory.
Your comment is brilliant, may I post it (as a self-standing page)?
DeleteFor the record, I never said "pure fact."
I only used the single word "fact"
NO: you may not post it as a self-standing page on your blog.
DeleteYOU didn't have to say "Pure Fact" because I did
but please tell me, honestly: what part "everything"
in this beautiful poem is Poetic License?
Well, here goes:
DeleteBikini Jones was not there in 1950
but I desperately needed something to rhyme
with "stepping stones."
The model for Ms. Jones entered my life when I was fourteen.
Her real name was KATHY KEATING and she was
part of my beach crowd in Rocky Point.
We swam long distances together and
then she would stretch out in her yellow bikini
and flowing blond hair on a red beach towel
while I ate a tuna fish sandwich and pretended
not to stare at her.
She inspired this couplet:
Her legs were long enough
to make a man dream in stereo.
Stupidly, I never let her know I loved her
but for thirty years I dreamt about us
swimming together a half-mile off-shore.
I have no friggin' idea if she is dead or alive
Does Mrs. CarPeo know about Kathy Keating?
ReplyDeleteMany years ago, after she told me about
Deletethe first love of her life, I told her
about Kathy Keating