Sophomores are agog this Monday morning
over Elvis on Ed Sullivan last night.
Sister Margaret shakes her parched white headpiece,
flaps her forearms, shoos The Pelvis from the room.
Patti pipes out, What's so wrong with Elvis?
trying to forestall the start of class.
Sister snaps, His motions are suggestive.
Of what? cries Patti, daring or just dense.
But Sister draws up cool and uncornered:
Of movements only married folks should make.
I think back to that first spin the bottle,
to those practice goodnight kisses with a friend,
to a boy who guards the pool at the playground —
how we slow-danced in the tennis courts one night.
Now he's dropped me for an older girl who's ready
to rock and roll, regardless of the rules,
while I'm suspended between classroom
specimens, frogs doled out for dissection,
and a fast-approaching future where my Elvis
awaits, with some tender moves meant for me.