While my hair was still cut straight across
my forehead, I saw you at the supermarket.
You could call it love at first sight.
At fourteen I married you.
I soon realized we were still kids.
How I would look out the window
and you would call me to come.
At fifteen I stopped scowling.
I no longer desired other women.
I wanted you, and you only.
At sixteen, you left.
You went far to the west and told me
to make the best while I would be waiting.
You have been gone five weeks.
You dragged your feet when you went out.
You went for the west.
By the flowerbed the weeds grow tall,
too tall to clear them away.
The leaves fall early this autumn in wind.
The grass is already turning brown.
If you are coming home, please let me know,
and I will meet you at the flowerbed.
Augusta High School
1980 – 1981 Anthology