Beneath an August Moon – Andrew Mellon High


Andrew Mellon High




my junior year
I’d walk the ten blocks down sycamore lined streets
past Zeppo the Taylor’s and the pizza parlor
across to the old brick schoolhouse

where I met the bubbly Junior
who made it her call to round up every new kid in school
and introduce them to her Lonely Hearts Club

“Hi!” she smiled as I stood
detached from the mythic dance
of the crowded schoolyard
“My name’s Kitty”

I suspected a come on—but this skinny gal
looked harmless enough

“I’m getting everyone who looks new in school
together at table six; would you like to come sit with us?”
“Yeah, why not?” and over to the cafeteria
where I met two more single Simons:

a toothy pimple-faced Sal Mineo

her greeting was aggressive
maybe she was nervous—“Good ta know ya!” she snarled
friendly enough—in a hard Brooklyn accent

I laughed nervously looking
to Kitty for help

then one day she wore a dress
and not her usual bell-bottom jeans
as she finished up her homework
(for a part time job after school)
her legs crossed angelic under
the lunchroom table
I saw the woman
—not the child

or maybe it was when we stood together in the lunch line
when I saw across the top of her midnight blue hair
each strand so vivid beneath
the fluorescent lights

by that summer we were in my room
listening to music and
making love


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