The First Piece of Fried Chicken of the Summer
we never needed alice cooper
or anyone else to remind us
when school was out
just pale girls
with closed eyes & weak knees
who smelled like coconut oil
waiting to bloom into bronze goddesses
waiting to chase their children
on sandy beaches into the future
that felt more like a postcard
in western pennsylvania
even in the middle of june
norman rockwell’s americana just never felt real
there was never a deep fryer in sight
& the beer was almost as warm as the sun
that first piece of fried chicken
& potato salad
was a still life
with our fingers covered in grease
we hovered over everything
like hummingbirds with young strong wings
we could only imagine
what was waiting for us.
John Dorsey is the former Poet Laureate of Belle, MO. He is the author of several collections of poetry, including Which Way to the River: Selected Poems: 2016-2020 (OAC Books, 2020), Sundown at the Redneck Carnival, (Spartan Press, 2022, and Pocatello Wildflower, (Crisis Chronicles Press, 2023). He may be reached at archerevans@yahoo.com.
All rights © John Dorsey
