first summer's eve

Tonight we walked the beach, sea wall, docks. We walk well, we've perfected it over the months.

The kissing always comes at the end, so sweet, never disappointing, your body like a daisy to my oak of a body. Your beauty takes another form as our lips draw apart and together, and it is only these moments do i forget my mistake, forget the strings that tether me to ExA.

i am not doomed to repeat my past.... i do not dwell on what you want with me, do not invite the voices that question why someone so young would spend time with someone so jaded.

i need a new name for you.

that POSTER

When I was 10, i wanted that Farrah Fawcett poster; it was 1977, the year it came out. My parents (or my mom) thought it too provocative for me and so the one i got, if I remember correctly, was of Farrah wearing a blue t-shirt, holding something in her hands that was out of view and staring vacantly at the camera. Looking at it now, i am surprised that the 10 year old me didn't notice that her pronounced nipples. It passed my mom's censor stamp.

Our house was for sale at that time, and when a family came to look at it, their son, my age, looked at the poster and his father said, "The poster doesn't come with the house, Rob." Rob and i became friends after they bought the house. Years later, he had DEVO posters in the same bedroom.

Earlier that Spring, when Charlie's Angels had taken the country by force, my friend The King and i went door to door in our neighborhood under the pretense of collecting magazines... for what, i do not remember. We were hoping to get the Time magazine where the three of them on the cover.

This is odd to recall, like finding a piece of clothing that was yours but in hindsight swear you'd never wear. Girlie posters and magazines have not been part of my cultural palette since then.

i loved the fact that she was married to Lee Majors, because The Million Dollar man was a favorite TV show. It took me years to stop referring to her as "Farrah Fawcett Majors".

And Logan's Run was one of my favorite movies, as i was so into Sci-Fi, and vividly remember her breakthrough performance as the plastic surgeon's assistant.

Thank you, Farrah, for such great childhood memories.

a cave within a cave

Frustrating is the situation where a person deludes herself so much that even the truth will not set her free.

KT and i spent time together last night after not speaking for about five weeks; the last time was when she appeared at my home, drunk, at 1:30 AM and tried to convince me that she was not there for a hook up. After initial trepidation i found myself comfortable being with her and moments arose that reminded me why I liked her in the first place.

My mind went back and forth about whether or not i would succumb to the sexual, but it seemed moot as the night went on and she spoke of another man. i was wrong, and once it became clear that i could own the moment, i jumped in whole hearted.

Then the after shit came, as it always does. She wants so badly to see the last 14 months as special, and that in spite of what i have said, she believes that i did at one time love her. She does it in a joking manner, as if to circumvent my protests.

You were just a way to get out of my marriage. i exaggerated affection for you, based on a initial attraction, not unlike my marriage.

It's so sad, and realize that no amount of great sex is worth having to listen to her go one and one about how special we were/are.

walking on the moon

i am 17 again: the bar is easily a high school gym, i come across you happenstance, each of us with our own friends. We converse, separate, converse, diverge. i then do something typically high school: send you a request to take a walk; you respond yes, simply. (texting is powerfully simple).

In 1984, my first love approached the bleacher where i half heartedly watched a football game. i was there for one reason only:hoping she'd show. She looked up at me, slightly drunk, her eyes filled with words i did not yet know. i asked "do you want to take a walk?" She nodded slowly, and we walked away from the game, to the darker area of the field, the grass wet, and i was so enamored with her, so thankful for these few minutes that made me beautiful.

Tonight, when we walked, i thought nothing of the walk 25 years ago; you were just a few months old then. Our conversation is neither natural nor forced, always exciting, always welcoming, but i will soon kill it with a comment about how seeing you once in awhile is no longer enough. The kiss from a week earlier changed that... for me, not you. You are always armed with the escape caveat of not wanting to lead me on.

Still, when i ask how you know about the details of my courting Starburst girl, you become serious, and launch into a detailed description of the courtship, how i did it, your words hinting anger..sadness? In that moment, i know that there is something there, in spite of your escape hatch.