<koertge's "beautiful eyes for a boy"> 2003-05-01.12:06 a.m. Beautiful Eyes for a Boy Ronald Koertge We were a hundred miles from anywhere as my grandmother smoothed the oilcloth, rattled the wood stove, sniffed at the ground round, her daughters, their husbands clustered on the porch methodically kicking the yard dog away from their good pants. I took the Sears catalog and climbed to the loft of the rickety barn. I knew the women in Foundations wanted the men in Briefs and nothing could stop them from meeting in Comforters & Quilts and kissing until their blood hissed like broth. *** Afterwards, dreamy in the straw, I heard someone yell for me, then lean on the horn of the Buick I would never be old enough to drive. I knew the ride home like the palm of my hand: all two-lane blacktop with white crosses where high school seniors hadn't made the curve. "In a minute!" I yelled. And just before I climbed down, I thought that I could set the whole place on fire just by looking a certain way. back /& forth /& frosting names are often sad