During recess in the fifth grade
giggling girls drew fat hearts
on the blackboard. They'd print
their names next to mine and shoot
arrows through them. My cheeks tinted
pink as I knelt on one knee, scaled
baseball cards against the back wall.
When I was twelve, we played "Hunter
and the Hunted" in couples. One team
counted, the other hid. Linda said no one
would find us and kissed my lips. She slipped
her tongue in my mouth, unzipped
my dungarees. I pinched her nipples,
listened for footsteps. High school,
I played lead guitar in a garage band.
We banged "Good Lovin" off gym walls
while tight skirt girls shimmied
near the amps. Cindy licked her lipstick,
threw me a kiss and yelled she'd wait for me.
In the back seat of her Dad's Rambler
she lifted her sweater, unsnapped
her bra. Any time my fingers crept
up her leg, she pushed my hand away,
she'd say no, not tonight, not yet,
and press her knees together. Erica
was surprised when I said I never
made love before. We cut class
Wednesday morning, went to my empty house.
We locked the door, walked down basement
stairs. She sat on the edge of the bed.
I pulled down the shades. She stood up,
hugged me, then stepped back to undress.
When she caught me staring, I blushed.
She smiled, curled under blankets.
When I kissed the back of her neck,
she turned and opened her arms. All
of her skin touched all of mine.
From One Wish Left