Was it the “jinkies”? Maybe the glasses?
The knee-high socks? The skirt that never once
flipped up despite all the haunted houses
that she explored? There was an innocence
each time she ended up on hands and knees,
searching for her glasses and the campy,
rubber monster would appear. She would squeeze
its hand: “Shaggy! you’re so cold and clammy!”
Velma Dinkley, out of all the sublime
cartoon girls, was the one I could relate
to. Short, plump, maybe bi with dreadful eyes,
she was nerdy and curvy at a time
when no one was; with her orange jailbait
turtleneck, Mary Janes and chubby thighs.