Wonderland

Spring Lake punks. Spring Lake legends. Spring Lake memories. Sincere thanks to Jennifer Bush Horne for inspiring the title of this poem and its idyllic remembrance of an innocent time long ago.

We played basketball for hours then rode our bikes
Following older girls
Driven in cars by older boys, laughing
We knew their names and where they lived
They would all disappear in the distance
On the long straightaways of Millicent and Creswell
Unaware of us because we couldn't pedal that fast.
Sometimes they would be at Pierremont Oaks
In bathing suits by the pool
Or eating french fries in the clubhouse
And we were just unnoticeable little kids to them
With our bikes leaning against nearby fences
Staring at goddesses
Just a grade older than us.
"One more year!" was our collective refrain
Then we would have our licenses as sophomores
We would have our own ninth grade girlfriends
For movie dates to Mall St. Vincent
Or lazy days aboard Bisteneau houseboats
And parking on dark, dead end streets
To fumble with buttons and bra straps.
But even then, even after earning that mature badge of honor
We would still ride in our first cars by the houses of our first crushes
Like Dayna, Jennifer, Angel, Catherine Anne, Michelle, Mary Ellen, et al
Hoping they would notice that we were men now, drivers
Worthy of more than dismissive head pats
For adoring, nonthreatening little boys on bicycles
During the previous Spring Lake summer of 1980.