Eros In Home Ec

Scott Sharpe

Dateline: 7th Grade

Re: Love

Location: Home Economics class

Her name: Cindy

Her last name

lost—

like that night's homework.

She was in 8th grade.

I was in 7th.

She was an older woman

and the teacher's aide.

Her light brown hair feathered

away from her forehead

wispy and beautiful

rolling over her ears in a wave

back into a ponytail

like an erection

on the back of her head.

I nervously fumbled with the cooking

supplies and sewing materials:

straws, plastic spoons and forks

an assortment of sizes of needles

and a rainbow of thread.

I picked the largest needle,

threaded loops till it flared

like an arrow’s fletching—

then clumsily crammed it all

into the hole

of the straw.

I tried to blow on it,

but my cheeks puffed

and nothing happened.

I tried again with all my wind

aimed it at Cindy

lungful of air,

the arrow to send

towards the front of the room—

and lodged it in her neck.

It stuck hard and then fell flaccid.

She cried; I got suspended.

Two weeks to think about it.

I learned to leave love

to Cupid,

or at least all the arrows

seemed to be pointing that way.

Besides, Cupid's aim

was practiced, precise

and no one got suspended.

Now I use straws for sipping

and only thread online

plus, now, I think Cindy

wears her hair down.