I was on tenterhooks
And practiced the whole night
Trying to get the expressions just right
Trying to imagine your face
Trying to rehearse how you would react
To my confession

I was on tenterhooks
And resorted to dunking tequila all night
Trying to muster sufficient courage
Trying to practice my poker face
Trying to prepare myself for disappointment
Should you turn me down

I was on tenterhooks
And resorted to looking everywhere but at you
Trying to be nonchalant
Trying to sound confident
Trying to appear attractive
And all you did was ask
“What took you so long?”

What an anti-climax
But thank you, daddy
For letting me drive
Your oh-so-previous car.

Before you let me in,
and washed and taped it
at the giant kitchen table.

The first time I went to Paris
I just knew I was in a movie
It was more real than life
But cinema nonetheless.

Nothing could be so beautiful and be true.
I was doubting my senses, my head reeling.
Those little pastry shops and outdoor cafes
Were straight from the studio back lots.

The boats meandering down the Seine
The people feeding bread to pigeons in front of Notre Dame
The old bookstores on the left bank I’d learned of in lit classes
All pretend, quaint, like a Christmas fairy town, but lovely.

The artists lined up to paint on the banks of the Seine
They even wore authentic jaunty painter smocks and berets
They were too perfectly typecast to be real people.
My very outdoor cafe-au-lait was too flawless.

I found one whisper of reality.
I’d been proud of my bargain hotel room.
I adjusted a painting on the wall.
Beneath it read, “Look out for bed bugs.”

Finally it became a real place for me
The night a robber stole my purse.
The police spoke no English.
I spoke only college French.

Still, it broke my heart to leave.
Do the people there value how ideal Paris is?
I felt I would never be happy in the USA again.
I still wander to Paris in my dreams.

Though shy as all getout & small for my size
I drove the First Grade Ladies crazy; just crazy.
Soon it was obvious, though,
That more than two Objects of my Affection
Would be too many.
I declared for The Adorable Mouse
And Viking Girl.
The Adorable Mouse was a head taller than I was.
Once I strained upward to kiss her and kissed collarbone,
Which got her giggling.
Her skin, hair and eyes were brown and warm
And she was delightfully skinny..
Viking Girl was her best friend,
Viking Girl whose hair was more yellow than blonde,
Who was not slender; was sturdy.
Viking Girl had soft voice, keen intellect, rosy angel face.
All Girlhood’s finest attributes seemed embodied in these two.
And so, early one recess, the three of us joined hands,
looked solemnly yet eagerly into each others’ eyes,
And became Boy and Wives.
TAM and VG then did the interlocking forearm grab
And bid me sit in my girlarm throne
And they lifted their new husband
And carried him out to the playground
In radiant triumph.
It was as of today the 117th happiest moment of my life.