[*Note: The use of the adjective “sudden” appears without prior knowledge of its similar use in a published poem by my friend, Anna Rose Welch] 10/14/15
A rainbow of sequins shoots across the grey landscape of split-levels, flats, and bungalows.
Too early in the season for fireflies. Just another evening in spring for most everyone….maybe a movie at home, some goodies, a game.
Tonight is Prom.
And, the empty streets are budding.
Sudden boys in stiff tuxes, girls balancing on stilettos at the edges of tired sidewalks, leaning in for the anxious lens of a wistful parent.
Then, off. Off to the blooming banquet ballroom, spongy carpet waiting to test the heels, brocaded corners settling in for the clusters of nervous children staring dolefully toward the dance floor.
Regal table rounds, draped with welcoming linens, ready to class the cliques and comfort the outcasts and soothe the swollen feet.
Noisy chattering over the relief of electronic sound emanating from the bandstand, not hearing anything intelligible, not caring. Laughing, just because.
Eyes glistening over icing on tiny cakes, licking fingers. Furtive glances across the chasm at the king and queen’s court, wondering how many minutes before all the chairs are empty. More chatter. More indefinability.
Photos, all. Phones, and photos. Poses, as many as Barbie and Ken could configure on the playroom floor. More songs from the band. Favorite songs. More looks from the DJ, waiting his turn.
Caravans of organza, tulle, crepe chiffon, and faux satin lumbering to the lavatory, clutching palm purses concealing tampons. Tinted mirrors, tugging bodices, mascara wands tracing eyelash tips.
One magnificent Conga line finale, led by the beloved gym teacher everybody knows is gay. No quibbling. No worries. True gaiety.
Trouping to the carpool, hormones at full tilt, sailing up the curb drive into the all-night restaurant. The grand, self-possessed entrance of a wandering circus act.
Mounds of fries and bacon and whipped creme.
Minds, winding down; bodies, wearing thin.
Time, gathering its notes for the remembrance book.
© Ruth Ann Scanzillo
5/16/15 All rights reserved. Prom away.