is betty home

for a thin dime
I would call betty
from the phone booth
in the drug store.
i'd close
the accordion doors
and sip on a cherry
coke I bought at the counter.
I'd sit on the wooden seat,
take the folded piece of paper
that held her number
out of my pocket
and spin the dial.
i'd ask
her mother if betty
was home, if she
wasn't too busy, could
she come to the phone.
her mother would yell out,
betty, hey betty
I think it's that kid
in your class.
no, not jimmy, no,
not carl ether, the other
one. the little
fellow with the cow
lick. you know
the shy kid with
freckles. I think
he likes you.
at this point i'd hang
up the phone
and wipe the sweat off
my brow.
i'd gather myself,
put my hands on my knees
to get my legs
to stop shaking
then go read a few
comic books, trying to block
out
the disaster that
love could be.