A.D.H.

She stands on the end of
The high dive
Pompadour ratted-up tight
Suit sewn on
Clinging to her ample figure
Friend to Esther Williams
Daughter of the sea and
Offspring of a World Champion Lady Angler

She smiles standing there
At the end of the board
Gleaming white teeth
Fire red lips, arched brows
Gingham stretched tight
No longer the tomboy
But a glamour girl, athlete
Diver, Southern California Tuna Club

The photographer leers
Through his lens
“Where’s the fire, Red?”
He says to bring life
To the auburn-haired Venus
He guesses it's nervousness but
She’s heard it before from
Those who mistake beauty for stupidity

Her mind flashes on chewing tar
Lobster caught through the cabin floor
Life on her father’s yacht landing
While the house was built
She remembers the freckles
The ugly, pouting child
The one dressed as a boy
Because that’s what father
Really wanted

The flash bulb ignites and she’s captured
Forever entombed in a bathing suit on the edge
Hands on hips she comforts her smooth one-piece
And she says, “Thank you”
“Sure, A.D.H.”
“Who?” she replies
“A.D.H. - Adorable Dot Hopton,
My Favorite redhead, of course.”