Morgan Lafay

Lacy White


We went together to three proms. Only
a couple in love could ever accomplish
such a feat. Blue tuxedos; taffeta gowns
with gloves. A love stronger than Johnny Cash
and June Carter, though neither of us could
sing. Love is too real in hearts of the young.

Drive-in movies on Saturday nights. Our hot
breaths steamed the windows in no time. Each
movie drove us further than the next, and
finally to a dirt road leading to our hideaway.
Lights off, the tires felt their way down to the
James River. Parked deep beneath the trees,

we made our way through the thickets of a love
so sweet. Naively, we measured our love by
the number of condoms hanging in the leafy trees.
At night, moon hanging low, it was our place only.
We never thought to whom the space belonged
in daylight hours, visible to all opened eyes.

“When we are married, promise me you will cook
breakfast every morning wearing just a lacy apron.”
Yes, that’s what he said, and it is what I believed.
What a thought! I dreamed of those days and nights.
But, graduation came, and he left for college. Who,
I often wondered, received my promise of lacy white.