February 16, 2014

Once, When We Were Young - Vintage Ephemily Poetry

It may come as a shock to some of you, but I was once actually a virgin.  I may have been born a Scorpio, and tearing that hymen may have been a technicality, but there was once a time that I could only imaging what actual lovemaking was like.  

At 15, I met a boy that I was head over heels for.  I'll spare you the sappy details, but what stuck with me was what it felt like to fall in love and communicate on a level that most didn't at that age.  We were as inseparable as we could be.  The reality of that was though that we didn't get much time together, and "we" predated email and texting.  So, the time we did get was ambrosia.  I often spent time daydreaming about a sort of parallel universe where we had more of everything; freedom, time, choice.  I think that's where the poems below came from.

I will never forget the day we spent in the park when we had the discussion about how we thought we were the right one to share our first time with.  It was late afternoon, and we cast long shadows on the pavement when he hung his head a bit and said he thought it was right.  That we should, you know, "do it".  But, he stressed, we needed to be smart about it.  He said we needed to use condoms.  My 16 year old heart melted, and those teenage dreams of owning a bookstore in a cozy, bedroom community somewhere seemed like they might actually become a thing.  I had felt the same feelings and stirrings, but never ventured to discuss  it since I thought it might cause his brain to seize up with the idea.  This man in boy's skin had his head on right.  And if I hadn't wanted him before, I certainly puddled for him, emotionally and physically, then.  In that very moment.  Young love and old wisdom made us what we were.  We were more than the sum of our parts, and gave each other the gift we thought the other deserved.  It's one of the moments in my life that I treasure to this day.

In a way, I regret all the ways I have become so jaded and guarded, and how long it takes me to love.  I did lose my innocence, but I don't think it was to this man.  If nothing, I gained the knowledge that there are good ones out there.  And there's something to be said for betting against the odds.

And in the perfect evening
nakedness would be more comfortable
the stars would be in technicolor
and the mosquitos in the neighbors yard

in the perfect evening
the birds would chirp till dark
and the grass feel soft and cool against my neck and arms

on the perfect evening
i’d be old enough to handle
him, the dusk, and our solitude
but young enough to have a first

a patch of skin
between “Ophelia, are you honest, are you fair”
and reverting to katehood

beads of sweat
strung necklaces on nerves
with a needle, thimble, thread and eye
with beginning training wheels
the tender who’s run by
coaxing, cooing, and arching

for the woman’s fishing net
to be cast into the sea
to reap or not to reap

but there is my answer


is there anything I haven’t given you
or told you you couldn’t have
you have my love
scotch taped to your forehead
and my kiss on your arms neck and lips
I’ve said my body is yours
a jungle gym
with a big red bow
and a ribbon cutting ceremony in the making

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