What Are You Selling?

The shoe store man who wears shiny brown suits and looks like Scott Baio came to my leg warmer kiosk yesterday with an Orange Julius. I figure he’ll ask me out tonight, so I cut class to lay out. “Bain de Soleil for the St. Tropez tan”: the gel smells sweet and dangerous, blood mixed with oranges. It reminds me of the sex I haven’t had yet, of skinny girls and European men. Of all the things I will resent when I am older. I spread it on my shoulders, but it’s too late—the flesh there is already burned.

Photo Credit: Jim Pennucci