A re-writing and re-naming of "Joy As It Flies," posted here a week or two ago (and then deleted for revision!).
Sketches from College Days
J-----, dark-haired, olive-skinned,
studious, with Goldwater glasses,
introduced me one afternoon
in her college dormitory
to the poems of One Times One
(she was sitting on the bed,
cross-legged, barefoot, as she read
if everything happens that can’t be done)
and I became E E Cummings'
most devoted acolyte.
A-----, petite, with honey-coloured curls,
acted a scene with me
from The Lion in Winter
(Eleanor of Aquitaine, Henry Plantagenet)
where we had to kiss---
her osculations were impetuous,
as French as the queen she portrayed;
I, the king, was subject to her reign.
B----- was a bit younger,
literate and brassy:
we scooped ice-cream together
in Harvard Square
that Tracy Chapman summer.
I liked her frank language
(I’d call her Boris,
as in Boris Becker, the tennis-player,
and she’d tell me to go fuck myself).
I shared her love of old movies:
Spencer Tracy, Cary Grant,
Grace Kelly, Marilyn Monroe.
M----- was sweet,
small, gentle, pale:
didn't quite seem twenty,
more like a child.
She told me of classes
she had when younger
where she learned Hebrew
through Peanuts comic strips
in which ha ha would be rendered with a chet.
We’d watch Urkel in her dorm room,
or fling a kooshball at each other in mine.
She might have even told me knock-knock jokes.
Once we playfully tussled,
and one of her socks came off.
Poetry by Thomas DeFreitas
Read 177 times
Written on 2017-11-09 at 07:59
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