Thursday, February 10
... maybe Andrew
...it wasn't as if we had anything really in common ...
we were both poor -
but your parents
drank, smoked and ate sausages -
all the time,
where mine drank wine, had parties
and went to the movies...
i remember yours gave us "cones" in the kitchen
(we were all of fifteen or sixteen)
then we would disappear into your room...
for hours on end...
there was unsprung energy about you:
electric, blue-eyed intensity...
you occasionally threw punches at walls.
things were hot that summer.
I don't always remember your name...
and I now don't remember how we finally met
i do remember intimate sweat
in a small dark bedroom
it must have been summer
because your smile was stark white against your tan.
what I will never forget, ever
is the pleasant shock
of that first vision:
you, riding through town
faded blue jeans on a dirt bike