July Cool by BJ Neblett

As my memoir Ice Cream Camelot about growing up during the Kennedy era is about to be published, here's a look at the poem that started it all, a poem I wrote for my first girlfriend Amy. Enjoy.
BJ

July Cool by BJ Neblett

© 2008

Burning July

sidewalks as hot as

the tip of the smoldering punk

clenched tightly between

teeth and gum

like some fancy cigar

because we were cool

in red hi-tops

and white T shirts

sleeves rolled

with empty Marlboro packs

like the older dudes

because it was cool

cool as the locking blade

knife ordered

from the last page of

a Green Lantern comic book

it bounced in the back pocket

of our torn

and faded jeans

stained with rainbow badges

proclaiming our cool

bloody nose red

and fishing hook green

and the wide dirt brown stripe

from sliding into home

Torturous July

stealthy pendulum

hovering between youth and tomorrow

when we were cool

and not yet cool

like the tarnished silver ring

that spent July sleeping

in that cool little pocket in my jeans

I bought it from Woolworths

to give to Amy Johnson

in the flickering coolness

of a Saturday matinee

it felt warm

and full of promises

but I didn’t give it to her

because I was too cool

or not cool enough

and Chris called me

a coward

and he was right

so I bought popcorn

with my last four bits

just to hear Amy’s

freckled laughter

and taste her hazel eyes

that made my stomach bubble

Enchanted July

when days exploded

with sunshine

and dandelions

and wishes

like the Black Kats

and Lady Fingers

we ignited with the punks

we pretended to smoke

when shy fireflies

sang in Morse code

and bold butterflies kissed

when I got my first pair

of Matador boots

but had to wait

till September

to wear them to school

because they were cool

and they made me cool

Sultry July

of watermelon days

and transistor nights

when one Willie Mays

was worth two Richie Ashburn’s

unless you lived in Philly

that magical July

our clubhouse

in the woods

became the smoking spot

no more un-cool punks

we had Salems

from mom’s purse

and Chesterfields

for twenty five cents a pack

they burned our throats

like the warm Schlitz beer

Timmy stole

from a neighbor’s garage

then the smoking spot

became the drinking spot

the same spot

where I first touched Robin

in that spot

and Amy knew

and killed me

with her hazel eyes

that made my stomach bubble

Ineluctable July

of inky nights

spent hanging out

because we were cool

trouble matured with us

from playground

to bowling alley

to pool hall

we were too old

for the curfews

we ignored

too old and too cool

but too young to drive

except for the cars

I stole

to impress the guys

and to win back

Amy Johnson

who told me

I was just too cool

Too cool for the July

that melted too soon

like the tangerine sun

and the jealous moon

and Amy’s hazel eyes

that made my stomach bubble

that cool July

For Amy, wherever you are thank you

                                                Elkton, Ohio

                                                February, 2008