Letterman Jackets

He was smuggling it in his coat

And he would take sips from it periodically,

Always making sure that his position was obscured

By the bleachers and the crowd,

Always making sure that the teachers and the coaches

Were too engrossed in the game to notice the action.

The sight of his various belongings

Scattered haphazardly about the front lawn

Caused him to sober up almost instantly

And he braced himself for the inevitable bombardment

Of personal insults that his father was sure to deliver

While his mother looked on, silently judging.

The dim lights in the parking lot did little

To illuminate the happenings that were going on

In the backseats of the many parked cars.

As his hands brushed and caressed a curiosity of a girl,

He inhaled her perfume, he felt her kiss,

And he allowed himself to get lost in her inexperienced charms.