Wind tossed her long blond hair
as she walked uphill toward the overpass.
When I drove even with her,
she stopped and tried to look like she was
not going to the lake.

In this poem,
I beg to differ with her.
Black straps above her strapless top
and the bottom of her white short
shorts, exposing her skin tight
one piece suit,
made me want to be carefree again.

She was,
in this poet’s summation,
better suited
for a two-piece bikini
on a blanket near a beach
far removed from Dale Hollow Lake.