Pocketed Shine

Those plastic keychains, cheap and bright,

on a spinner rack in the five-and-dime.

I can see them still, lost in time,

the fluorescent hum beneath the light.

One had a dolphin, blue and sleek,

I slid it in my pocket, quick and low.

My heart a frantic beat, a secret glow,

a stupid thrill, a whispered streak.

No one saw. No one knew. Or said.

Just the warm plastic against my thigh,

a small victory, a quiet lie.

That dolphin's plastic gleam, inside my head.