The Joy of Babysitting

            "Mrs. L wants you to babysit tonight," Mom said.
My Fry boots squish the leaves that October night.
Friends are playing basketball as I ring the doorbell.
Mark's busting a gusset and wants to show me a card trick.
This red headed eight year old is a live wire.
Cookie crumbs cling to his chin.
"Will you read to me? Pleeeease?" he asks.
He's back so fast I'm out of breath.
"What have you got there?" I ask.
Those impish eyes hold a secret.
Playboy magazine.