It's kind of like learning
to slip your bra off under
your sweater so he can touch
you--those little tricks you learn
over the years in some dark Chevy
or maybe if you're lucky, a sofa.
He learns to come with his jeans on
begging for more and maybe you
come too if he slips his hand down
your panties and touches you just
right. You learn how to find
that safe line between teasing and pleasing
because once you cross to the other
side you can't ever go back and you
learn later that innocence is an aphrodisiac
and no boy will ever again quite love you
like he did that night with one hand on your
breast, the other down your pants, 'your' song
on the radio and the moon writing
its name on every heartbeat
10 comments:
Thanks, Michael. I haven't looked yo see if anymore were added since early evening, but S.A.'s was priceless:-) Let school recommence!
Damn, none of the girls I recall knew that trick!! They liked to torment me with undoing the clasp in the back. I swear I think some of their mothers sewed the damn ends together. Your fearlessness in your poetry is refreshing!! Good one Pris!!
Thanks, Pat. I wonder if Superglue had been invented then:-)
Pris, I spent some time yesterday morning listening to you read your poetry. What a fine writer you are! I wrote something then, but I think blogger ate it, and it didn't work very well today, either. I enjoy coming to your websiste and reading your posts.
pepe..thanks for letting me know that. I really appreciate it.
Hi Pris, Whoa, that took me back to a time long ago and far away! Ha, youth is not wasted on the young after all and we can take it with us, in a sense. Thanks for the ride!
Hi mouse
You're welcome:-)
Hi mouse
You're welcome:-)
I love the seamlessness of the verse here. Amazing. You have, once again, outdone yourself!
Thanks, Erin!
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