First Crush

His big boy haircut
and tailored slacks
set well
atop the casually understated
Buster Brown lace ups,

His velocipede
was sleek, the first
one on the block
in metalflake,
and the fastest, too.

It was not the shoes
and the shiny cycle
with tassels, that dazzled
and impressed; it was how he hid
his tears when he crashed.

2 thoughts on “First Crush

  1. Nice writing, and capturing the moment. I really like your poetry and your voice, but this one made me sad. Isn’t it awful how early those terrible gender messages take hold? Big boys don’t cry… crying, even in pain or humiliation isn’t “masculine” and thus won’t attract the praise of little girls or parents. Handling pain well and bravely should be something we all strive to do, but hiding tears isn’t a prerequisite for approval.

  2. “Handling pain well and bravely should be something we all strive to do, but hiding tears isn’t a prerequisite for approval.”

    Indeed, it is so, Rita, and well stated too.

    However this was not meant to be a social statement.
    It was a moment of pleasant and personal recall related as such.
    Many of my poems are born of my history and it is not likely I will
    rewrite them to suit ‘the times’.
    In a world where war is a constant, and every five seconds a
    child dies of hunger, I find your sadness at this poem rather unimportant.

    I do appreciate your visit and welcome you to return..

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