The Gravel Pit

Trucks went there to scoop out what they needed.
When the gravel was gone the pit was filled
with water and stocked with minnows for bait.
The young skipped flat rocks across the water.
Irene tried. I showed her how. Love was all
it took. I told her what an arm she had.
I liked to drive the highpile gravel road
to the Satus Shaker Indian Church.
Once inside we were tempted to make love
on the hardwood floor in the near bare room
with its chairs around the outer edges,
a lectern on a table. That was all,
a body needed more when there were two
involved. I took the blanket from the car
and naked, I lay her nakedly down.
We made slow love as long as the young can.
In Toppenish we went to the movies.
We very rarely saw Granger people.
They haunted the main drag in Sunnyside.
They liked to hang around its Dairy Queen.
We knew their names but they were not our friends.
A poor-white boy and a Mexican girl
preferred to stay away from the hubbub.
I so excelled in football my last year
I would have gone to California
had Ross Sohappy not preceded me.
One year in Coalinga was too much.
He was a chief's son. He died in a fire,
I learned in Seattle. I was waiting,
Irene’s bare feet tense against the stirrups.

(19 July 2011)

copyright 2011 by Floyce Alexander