[photo credit: thenaturephile.com]
Carnival sun shines along neglected lanes.
Stinging nettle strangers catch my eye,
leaning tall at forty- five degrees,
reaching out with implied intent,
swaying with laddish temptation.
schoolboys pulling sleeves over fists,
clutching nettles as swords,
chasing shrill squealing schoolgirls.
I half recall the harmless, yet painfully
intolerable, aggravated calamine-less itch,
and for a flimsy, fanciful, fraction of thought,
I wish to feel the sharp prickles of stinging
sharpness burn across my thighs.
Quickly, I catch and query my whim:
Is it just nostalgia?
Or perhaps more specifically,
I want a reminder of innocent coquetry,
when boys had no idea of what to do with me,
once I was caught!
Today Brain at dverse has us writing about puzzles. Here, I puzzle on my own fleeting desire.