Hankering for Redheads

Spiky red hair, impish green eyes

freckles dabbled all over

like liberal sprinkles of salt

tall and skinny with knobby knees

ungainly and awkward, full of spirit

his name, Barry, meant spear-like

mimicking his narrow physique

and the best thing of all is

that he also liked me

twelve years old, ready to roar

sad to say that I moved away

far from my first love, Barry

returned several summers later

he asked me on date, my fair Barry

borrowed father’s car, ate Chinese food

but I had been living in a southern clime

sweet talking boys with all their manners

used to being treated like a Deep South belle

Barry didn’t open the car door for me

And that was the end for my first boyfriend

But I must admit, I still hanker for redheads.