teenagers of the fifties
grew up in happy days
poodle-skirted gals
met grease-slicked guys
at the local juke joint
“Baby, buy me a
cheeseburger and malt.
Then we’ll shuffle to
Elvis’ latest greatest hit.”
you only juked me
that you couldn’t dance!
Brian Miller serves quadrillles at the dVerse poets’ pub today. Born at end of the fifties, I remember Elvis and juke boxes. (Image from Pinterest)
a poem in my pocket 
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