I cherished the drama of adolescence—
the lanky charm and urgency of teenage boys
and the yearly infusion of high school-aged combiners
with their exotic southern drawls,
up from Kansas for the summer wheat harvest,
bold itinerant competition for our shy local cowboys.
Summer nights, cruising main,
honks and rolled-down windows
and perhaps, at the Saturday night dance,
trying to adjust my steps to a new partner—
flushed with excitement,
even in my memory.