Homeroom

You woke in autumn darkness

from a dream where you were back in 8th grade

you were crushing on all the girls

but were too afraid to tell them

Because you didn’t want them to laugh at you

Because you thought you were too skinny

Because your mom wouldn’t let you wear cool clothes

You wore wing-tip shoes and a gold monogrammed sweater

with your initials, AB in cursive

You never got to buy Madras shirts or slip-on loafers

like every other boy who went to your school

because mom didn’t think they looked good

and in 8th grade you had to dress to make your mom happy

not the girls you had crushes on

You also dreamed of your old homeroom teacher

you thought she was old but she had big breasts

All the boys would talk in the hall after class about her breasts

and laugh that she may tip over, if she wasn’t careful

You got out of bed and went for your morning walk

You wore a bright yellow vest; it looked silly

but you wanted sleepy drivers to see you in the dark

and you didn’t care if people laughed at the old man in a glowing vest

On your walk, you realized your old homeroom teacher

was probably 15 years younger than you are now

and you wonder, if now that your vision of beauty has expanded

beyond adolescence and was more enlightened

Would you see more than her breast size

Would you consider her smile, her eyes, her personality

But you don’t remember her face only her breasts

and now you wonder were her breasts really that big

or were they just bigger than the breasts of all the girls

you were crushing on in 8th grade

10-24-19