Betty and Me
Betty’s bathing suit is striped
pink and white  
or is it the jaunt of her hip
that blasts Archie stiff-
limbed into the air, panting? 
No dependable ponytail and
“Who’s the new girl on the beach?”
The sultry mane, the knowing cleft, 
a hint of yes, and Jughead’s hotdog 
shoots from the bun.  Even Reggie 
wheels around because 
Boing! Something about her
gets them sprung. 

So weird, the allure,
I had to double baggy her,
sealing in a hormonal stampede,
all the churn and dust, 
and with extra scotch tape, 
clouds of boy lust.
But then I’d scratch open
and climb past stories  
in my favorite tree, 
where I fingered the pages    
until an unpictured longing
ravished me.
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