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Years of Technicolor
by James Nave

When I was in high school,
I parked along Stradley Mountain Road
with Pam Kampfer after the movies
on Friday night.
In those years of technicolor,
I drove a baby blue Plymouth Valiant
with a white roof and a small engine:
push button automatic, low,
drive, reverse — forward, back.
Pam's father was a college professor.
She knew things about France
and Zelda Fitzgerald
who died in a fire in 1948
ten miles from where we sat,
two teenagers on a dirt road
in late August under trees
full of Carolina summer.



 

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