by William Fargason
in high school health class the week
of sex ed my teacher Mrs. Plunk
an old white woman with a bouffant hairstyle
so silver it glowed blue she put on
the projector a diagram of a penis
chopped in half lengthwise which made me
squirm my teacher each time she said
the word penis she would pause
then lick her lips as if to turn the page
of her mouth and I and the rest of the class
would try not to laugh and in the hallway
later my friends and I would mock her
saying the word penis then licking
our own lips it seemed she had no idea
she was doing it as if the habit was
a reaction to a far-off memory as if
she wasn’t in front of us any longer
and she was thinking back thirty years
to a French café to the small chair
she sat in next to the cobblestone street
smoking a cigarette the chair’s
woven rattan pattern like the blue
of the waiter’s eyes she called over was she
still there thinking back to the bulge
in his pants blowing a smoke ring
with the light wind hoping it would
get his attention was she continents away
from the monotony of a classroom
full of bored sophomores it’s hard to imagine
her with dark braided hair so dark
it reflected the afternoon light did she know
how beautiful she was did he notice her
and now each time she licked her lips
she was traveling back in time the imagination
always better than the real thing O the gates
of Heaven one zipper pull away
Last updated July 26, 2022