Sun still burning. Sticky air.
June bugs cling to screens.
Midwest town at closing time.

Moss Bros, Jewel’s Gems,
Ben Franklin five and dime
restock shelves then sleep.

Main Street light blinks
like a calendar lighthouse
with no traffic to save.

Sisters leave the library
armed with books that will
one day be banned.

Marvel Monsters lurk in
darkened doorways eager
to devour Sis and me.

Fumbling books she grabs
the bowling alley door,
yanks it open, shoves me in.

Smoke billows, laughs bellow,
pins crack, lights blink
Whole Lot of Shakin’ Goin’ On

Are these Marvel Monster Men
reeking of motor oil,
blue collars, sweaty shoes,

bent to pat our shoulders?
Beery grins, cracker breath,
Camels stuck to fat lower lips.

When I’m grown I’ll be the
Marvel Invisible Woman.
They won’t see me coming.

For now I lower my eyes,
sit with Sis on blow-molded
bench at the one safe lane

where Dad’s team bowls.
He and Uncle Ed will take
us home via Tastee-Freez.

***

Linda B. Myers traded snow boots for rain boots and moved from a marketing career in Chicago to Washington’s Olympic Peninsula where she is now part of the old growth. She has Indy published ten novels, writes a monthly op/ed piece for the local paper, has published poetry in several magazines and anthologies. Her first chapbook will be available through Finishing Line Press in Spring 2026.