Franklin High

I heard girl-chatter emerge behind me
and saw Linda, the blond cheerleader with
those agate-brown eyes, split off from her
friend and smile my way as she angled down

a sidewalk walled with snow. I could find
no words, no gestures as she walked away.
Do something! Come on, STUPID! So
I plopped a snowball out in front of her.

She stopped, set her book-bag on a drift, her
silent gaze fixed on my numb grin as she
scooped snow in her mittens, packing it while
approaching in her dark wool overcoat.

From 20 feet, she smacked my forehead. My
face shaving-cream white, we both blinked
and laughed, then I broke toward her. She spun
toward home and grabbed her bag, tucking it

underarm as boot heels punched her coat hem
like a sprinter, her laughter shattering crystal
arctic air. Fast hockey player, I raced for her
my head thrown back and heart gone wild.

Raymond Byrnes’s poems appear in numerous print and on-line journals such as Main Street Rag and Cathexis Northwest Press, and his work has been featured as Editor’s Choice in at least six, including Typishly, Third Wednesday, and The Writer's Almanac. He has enjoyed living in Virginia for a long time but never fully left Minnesota.