She dreams about it every year
she doesn’t want to but she does
knowing now what she didn’t then
she wonders if she had been able
to warn Him, Them
would He, They
have listened
would it have made a difference
she dreams about it

Teenage girl getting ready
for the most important
day of her young life
make up carefully applied
dark flipped hair teased high
bangs fluffed up framing baby blue eyes
blinding mists of hair spray
a touch of light pink lipstick
a kiss to the mirror and she’s out the door

The girl barely thirteen
on the ground twenty or so rows back
sharing binoculars with friends
taking turns to get a closer look
a couple seated center stage
beautiful people man and wife
the light Texas breeze
blows the First Lady’s dark hair
across her face how beautiful she is
how handsome the man
she remembers the words
from his inaugural speech
“Ask not what your Country
Can do for you, but ask
What you can do for your Country.”

Teenage girl suddenly realizes
his speech is over
she must get closer
jumps up leaving her friends
runs up the sidewalk
past rows and rows of chairs
under the bright sunlight
in San Antonio, Texas

She dreams about it
the slapping of her shoes
echo off the hallway walls
the heavy thump of her heart
gasping roar of her ragged breath
are all she can hear

Barely thirteen
slim with angular face
slightly awkward
dark hair flipped bounced
bangs cut to eyebrows above blue eyes
dress sleeveless baby blue
the color of the open clear
November Texas sky
girl’s full skirt sways side to side
with every slapping step

Teenage girl runs past barricades
she must get closer yet
Secret Service agent
in front of the open hall
stops at the sound
of someone running
teenage girl watches as
the agent reaches toward the
handsome man

She dreams about it
she comes to a stop
twenty feet from
the President
it is just the three of them
she is close enough to hear
his quick intake of breath
as he stops surprised
looks at the agent
then at the young girl so very close
he is very tan and his eyes
reflect the bright blue Texas sky
as his eyes capture hers
she realizes he has the ability
to make you feel
you have his full attention

He smiles his million-dollar smile
gives a slight chuckle, waves a tan hand
says, “Hi!”
his familiar voice gives her shivers
she gives him a shy smile and wave
then the President was gone

Teenage girl floats in a bubble
the rest of the day
her friends angry she left them
but she doesn’t mind
retells how he smiled said hi
how he looked so tan and alive
she doesn’t remember walking home
the front of the evening paper
San Antonio Express and News
dated November 21, 1963

Teenage girl lies in bed that night
relives the fantastic moment
smiles as sleep finally takes her away
still in perfect bubble the next day
euphoria continues to sparkle in her veins
nothing gets done all morning

After lunch the day is shattered
a crying girl with a transistor radio
the President was shot and has died
seems less real to the teenage girl
than the day before when he was alive
so close she could almost touch him
can’t be true can’t be true can’t be true

Barely thirteen and the horror
hit her like a punch to the gut
she doubles over arms clenched
across her stomach as tears begin to flow
she lays her head on her desk
that smells of pencil and eraser

Days living in a fog
teenage girl cries in her bed at night
funeral on TV black high-spirited riderless horse
follows American flag on Lincoln’s draped caisson
Taps plays note breaks on sixth
echoes agony and grief
she and people everywhere feel
although the world mourns with her
she feels the loss so very personal

Teenage girl dreams about it
but doesn’t want to
the handsome man so full of life
is gone forever as is the dream
of our own Camelot
so much promise
for the whole world has gone with him
and we aren’t promised a tomorrow

I dream about it
I don’t want to but I do
if I only had known then
what I know now
if I only had said something
would He, They
have listened
would it have made a difference
if I had told him
“Please don’t go to Dallas.
They will kill you!”

I was that teenage girl
over sixty years ago
I am still inspired
by his words
I dream about it
I don’t want to
but I do