By a lake shaped like a cartoon parrot
We practiced the simple art.
You were 17 and I was 19, two years
between us and then I was twenty.
This is the simple math.
It was Florida in the Sixties and
your aunt said, don’t grin honey,
you don’t want to work your skin
like that. She told me, one day
you’ll be dead, but meanwhile put on
some lipstick, wear a cute skirt.
