Oranges

Read the following poem, and then answer the questions

Oranges (1983)

By Gary Soto

The first time I walked
With a girl, I was twelve,
Cold, and weighted down
With two oranges in my jacket.
December. Frost cracking                        5
Beneath my steps, my breath
Before me, then gone,
As I walked toward
Her house, the one whose
Porch light burned yellow                         10
Night and day, in any weather.
A dog barked at me, until
She came out pulling
At her gloves, face bright
With rouge. I smiled,                               15
Touched her shoulder, and led
Her down the street, across
A used car lot and a line
Of newly planted trees,
Until we were breathing                           20
Before a drugstore. We
Entered, the tiny bell
Bringing a saleslady
Down a narrow aisle of goods.

I turned to the candies                             25
Tiered like bleachers,
And asked what she wanted —
Light in her eyes, a smile
Starting at the corners
Of her mouth. I fingered                          30
A nickel in my pocket,
And when she lifted a chocolate

That cost a dime,
I didn’t say anything.

I took the nickel from                              35
My pocket, then an orange,
And set them quietly on
The counter. When I looked up,
The lady’s eyes met mine,
And held them, knowing                          40
Very well what it was all
About.

Outside,
A few cars hissing past,
Fog hanging like old                                45
Coats between the trees.
I took my girl’s hand
In mine for two blocks,
Then released it to let
Her unwrap the chocolate.                       50
I peeled my orange
That was so bright against
The gray of December
That, from some distance,
Someone might have thought                   55
I was making a fire in my hands.