Vocabulary Lesson
       

My father was driving. I was in
the passenger seat of the Rambler.

He watched the road. I looked
straight ahead at the palm trees.

This is how we talked—how
the mysteries of sex were revealed

on Forest Hill Boulevard, how
the terms of my quitting Boy Scouts

were hashed out on Parker Avenue.
We were heading down Jog Road,

I said something was exquisite.
His body angled away from me

as he made a turn, an edge
to his voice when he said

Boys don't use that word.
We sat in silence at the stop light

on Lake Worth Road, a hedge of red
hibiscus in full bloom beside us.

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Copyright © 2021 Don Hogle All rights reserved
from Madagascar
Seven Kitchens Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission