Rita Sims Quillen: Sugar-n-Spice, Etc.

All us girls knew about sin
sought after it.
Torn pieces of brown paper bags
wrapped around dried corn silks
secretly cured in the toolshed
supplied cigarettes to wave around
like those women on the soap operas.
In my friend’s playhouse
we practiced kissing
furtive and ashamed.
A high-powered telescope
Santa Claus brought
opened up the mysteries
of neighborhood bedrooms.
 
Once we sneaked out of a slumber party
tiptoed onto an icy bridge
still in our babydoll pajamas and
froze our prissy asses off
to watch the sun stick out its tongue
at the gray world.
Then there was that Halloween
we rolled a septic tank
into the middle of the highway
and set it afire.
It took about 20 state troopers
two tow trucks and a tractor
to move that white-hot donut.
We were fairly disappointed
when nobody got arrested.
Our reputations weren’t the best,
but at least what we were made of
wouldn’t melt in your mouth.

From Rita Sims Quillen’s Some Notes You Hold (Madville 2020). Copyright 2020 Rita Sims Quillen.