Gulp, The Prom

I never went to any of the school dances when I was a kid. Except for the the big one: the senior prom. I remember the handmade decorations, the disco ball, the chairs lined up against the walls, and the theme: Midnight Masquerade. Or was it Moonlight Masquerade? Or Moonshine & Masks? Something like that.


This poem takes me back to those days. And, as a mother of 2 boys, I just want to put my arms around the boy in the poem and hug him and hold him and fix him cookies and hot chocolate and tell him that girls aren't everything, that high school isn't everything, that he's not the worst of the boys--that he could never be the worst--when he's so thoughtful and sweet and loved.

The Best Slow Dancer by David Wagoner