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.)

I.

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.

II.

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.

III.

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