Friday, March 11, 2011

I Have Sex: 3 Fallings into Love

Three Fallings into Love

(If they had ended in marriage, they might have been comedies,
but, as it is, they aren’t tragedies, either.)


The first time, it was with a brown-haired boy
who read science fiction.
I was eleven.
He moved away
and I kept reading.

I still pretend I’m setting my coordinates for distant stars
when I punch the buttons on the microwave
to warm up the vegetables.


When I was sixteen, it was my physics teacher.
I loved watching him do math in his head
and on his fingers.

Virginity is pretty small potatoes to pay
for numbers
spilled out like the milky way
and sizzling with possibility.


Then it was with an artist
who smelled like Juicy Fruit Gum,
especially his pockets,
and who made the silver wrappers into jewels.

He left a trail of twinkling ripples in his wake
like a rock skipping

         one, two, three, four times

before sinking into me
and coming to rest down deep.

Today is Poetry Friday
Liz Scanlon is hosting
at Liz in Ink 
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