Dirty Pages


We snuck to the shed
before dinner
where his brother kept the stash
of adult magazines that
for years we had no interest in
but recently
had hoped to explore.

Hal had discovered where Hank
had kept them
so we were going
on safari to see
what all the fuss was about.

“Here!” Hal hollered
opening the treasure chest
where we would see some
sophisticated stuff.
We opened the crate
and opened the yellowed mags
searching for the pictures.

And there were girls
from various towns
in those dirty pages
and explanations
of their different cultures and ways
and how we could best
bridge communication.

“I don’t get it,” I said.
Hal shrugged, agreeing.
We were too young
to see what the adults were all interested in
so we put the magazines
back where they belonged
and waited a few years
to rediscover National Geographic.

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