“She’s a Right Plump Biggin”

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“She’s a Right Plump Biggin”

We’re going steady.

She’s a right plump biggin,

taller than most girls in our class.

A Viking goddess,

majestic.

Taking me down.

When I watch her in sixth period gym,

I lose my breath.

My heart beats loose.

She sweats a waterfall,

and wipes her forehead with the bottom of her tee shirt.

When she does this I can see her stomach.

I get butterflies in mine.

I fantasize about her being able reach items on the higher shelves for me.

To put me up on her shoulders at concert festivals.

And, I think about the times she rests her head in my lap and looks up at me with those Monster Truck eyes.

We take turns applying new lipstick,

and kissing long into the afternoon.

The day’s dying winds blowing rage into the fire of our passion.

Inciting jigsaw elbows and pounding fingertips, until we melt into puddles of ginger trance.

Our thing; an oasis in a cruel world.

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