Have you ever been in love with someone who was totally wrong for you? (It's a rhetorical question, don't think too hard on it.) If you've never experienced the uncertainty that comes with the territory, Walter Dean Myers' new book, Street Love will school you on the do's and don'ts of these emotional waters.

Written entirely in free verse poetics, Street Love is the story of Damien, a 17 year old basketball star who excels in school and seems to have a bright and shining future on the horizon. Enter Junice. Junice is a 16 year old woman trying desperately to keep her life together. While her mother serves out a 25 year sentence for selling drugs, Junice must do everything she can to protect and support herself and her younger sister, Melissa. Living a life of borderline desperation and urgency, Junice certainly has no time for boys. Enter Damien.

Who wants to read a book written as poems? Trust me, you do. This isn't the flowery romanticism of long dead authors (although you would do well to pick them up, too). This lyrical onslaught has a tempo all its own. It is the harmonizing of lovestruck characters set to the rhythm of the street. Here's a taste:

DAMIEN

Junice moves uneasily through the room
Her stops punctuated by a soft smile
That sends shivers of delight up my spine
My smile doesn't fit my face anymore
Clumsily I try to hold the space
She gives me between the yellowed curtains
And the darkly stained table where my legs
Cross and uncross searching out casual
The smell of food cooking in some other
Kitchen reminds me that we share the world

Junice moves uneasily through the room
I speak, and her quick mind catches the thought
And tosses it playfully at my feet
I am eager to laugh and she knows it
I talk nonsense and she nods, I babble
And she babbles back. I am excited
Yes, and afraid in her presence

In the faraway next room there are sounds
"Melissa's watching some kiddy program,"
Junice says. "I bribed her to waste her mind."

We are dancers, she with bare feet
And dangling bracelets, the native child
Burned by the copper sun
I am the explorer
Discovering that there are two sides to the ocean

"Damien, what are you thinking?" she asked.

"I am thinking that I am not thinking.
What are you thinking?"

"I am thinking that I am thinking too much,"
     she said

"Is that good or bad?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said, freezing the thought
I stood and put my arms around her

She put her head against my chest
In the long moment that followed
It was impossible to breathe
Too difficult to speak
We were rapt in each other
For a handful of heartbeats
Until, embarrassed, she pushed me away
We had shared more
Than we knew possible
Then I was standing, jacket in hand, at the door
Awkwardly we faced and wondered if Could
Would turn to Yes, her fingertips kissed
My face. My lips barely parted and quickly
Closed.
Down the stairs, and into the cool night
A half-moon floated
High above the jutting chimneys
Perhaps there were two moons
Perhaps a dozen

Street Love hits bookstores on Tuesday (Halloween!). Be sure to let us know what you think!