like the molten hot center of the Earth.
Softgentlewarmlongrapturousdizzying.
I breathe in through my heart and out my eyes. Until I can’t breathe, kiss, feel, think, stand, see. Taking my hand. Walking me home. Reaching my front door. Holding his hands against my cheeks. Rubbing nose-on-nose with mine. We Eskimo kiss goodbye.
Something big has landed in my soul.
X:Call me after you finish your homework.
I nod, knowing full well
I’m spending the evening
not thinking of homework
only
his lips
the sugary softness
his eyes
the chocolaty warmth
his hair
the citrusy scent.
No, not doing homework,
but I pretend to comply.
My happy lie.
Spaceship Cake
his smile, slanted,
a lopsided spacecraft
tilting time to one side
leaving me askew as
charm oozes out the cracks.
his eyes, dark,
orbital sugar-coated cones
spinning their mad power
slicing into me as
light, fluffy love seeps out the circles.
it’s a double whammy
a one-two punch
an ambrosial spell
—a reverse—
like the earth orbiting the moon
stirred together and
baked
in a space-time continuum
unspoiled
weightless
call Nestlé!
alert NASA!
his buttercream lips hover
over my heart
and stars
and Mars
and moons
and galaxies
could melt into his kiss
just like
I have.
When I Visit His Apartment, Pt. I
I walk in
behind him.
The room sings
of zines and books
broken piano keys
alibis and secrets
bottles rest on Bukowski
like a side table
made of Pulp.
Wine corks nestle beside laptops
Velvet Underground propped against a ten-speed
a fern stares out the window.
Guitars—electric and acoustic
hang out.
There’s a banjo.
A banjo?
X steps over a box, picks up a ukulele
strums it.
X:Sam, oh, Sam. Sweet, sweet Sam
Like a tune from a
Grammy-winning ditty, it’s music
to my ears.
At last, I’ve found
a song
a boy
a place
I can sing along to
cuddle up beside
rest.
After we move the Wii and coffeepot,
sit side by side
on the couch
missing a cushion
we glide together, giddy, gulping up
laissez-faire.
Me:So this is what it’s like inside.
X:Yep.
Our eyes sparkle into each other
hovering above
the dirty dishes piled up in the kitchen
across the room
the one
big room.
X:This is it.
He grins
and I can hardly believe he means the apartment.
The Meet—April
April comes with me to the café,
orders a vanilla latté
sugar-free
with soymilk
and extra foam
in a to-go cup
even though she’s sticking around.
Could she be more high maintenance?
She giggles a lot
like she’s the one with the crush.
The old giddy April,
bubbling out from underneath
faded black hair
brooding eye make-up
dark fingernails
crimson-stained lips.
X casts a simple spell
over April, he bewitches,
enchants.
The meet at Café Hex.
Her take—
Seems so mature.
Not like Ralph.
Did you see all the people that came in just
to talk to him?
He’s the café’s biggest attraction!
I smile, happy to have won her approval.
The Meet—Gavin
It’s Gavin’s seventeenth birthday party.
Bring a date!
At the Sock ’n’ Bowl
a Laundromat in the back
bowling alley in the front
’80s formals theme.
I show up with X.
Him—makeshift tux and Chuck Taylors.
Me—yellow corsage X got at his special flower shop.
It clashes with my purple and black dress
but complements my diamond earrings
the gems I took
from Jane’s jewelry box
never to return.
My gift to me.
We sing Happy Birthday
then flasks come out
spiking sodas and juices
as moods lighten.
Time rolls by
as bowling scores decline.
Gavin:I get it.
Me:What?
Gavin:He’s got that dangerous side.
Points to my wrist corsage.
Gavin:He five-fingered your flowers.
I tell him to stop creating stories.
Just admit it. You like him!
Gavin admits
the flowers smell beautiful
he has a flair for drama
X isn’t so bad after all.
Gavin:Although he mentioned using
sleight of hand to acquire your corsage.
He buries his nose in my wrist bouquet.
Gavin:I could’ve misheard.
He was on the phone.
Me:I’m sure you did.
And it’s all good.
Just like I knew it would be.
Looking for Ralph
April:I can’t find Ralph.
Me:Did you check the men’s room?
April:I can’t go in there!
We would ask Gavin, but he’s busy
making out with George by the shoe return.
Me:What about the Laundromat?
X:I’ll go look.
X disappears
as Ralph returns stinking of pot.
But before April can read him the riot act
X returns saying
he has to go.
Please tell me this boy is not dumping me in front of
all my friends. Leaving me
stranded and humiliated in front of my toughest critics.
Another party.
He’d committed to weeks ago.
Has to be there.
Imperative.
He feels bad.
Blah. Blah. Blah.
Gavin:Why don’t we all go?
X wears this
weird lookpained glancenervous smile
then
we all go
to the party.
What a High School Party Isn’t
Two-be
droom apartment
Wicker Park
three girls
zero parents
X walks through the door like he’s home
me
Gavin
April
George
Ralph
follow him up the narrow staircase.
Noise grows
louder
louderlouder
louderlouderlouder
until we’re greeted by
cigarettes
beer
sweat
sticky
dense
air
wall-to-wall people
crouched on furniture
balancing drinks and cigarettes.
A wet film coats the floor.
My shoes leave prints in it.
Red plastic cups rest
in windowsills,
on tables,
tumbled over.
X sees a girl, leaves me there, stupid,
standing beside my high school friends
in ’80s formals.
I try to talk to Gavin,
but the music’s too loud.
I’ve been to high school parties before,
and high school this isn’t.
Diamonds in the Rough
I’m a statue,
sweet
solid
stuck
in a cheesy prom dress.
Could this get anymore uncomfortable?
People avoid us
either because we’re obviously underage
or because it’s too crowded.
As I place my corsage in my purse
a girl appears, admires my earrings.
Queen Vanilla’s pillow-cut diamond studs.
I tell my new friend, Betty, they’re fake.
Betty:You guys come from Prom or something?
Gavin:Tonight is cause for celebration!
Betty:Oh yeah?
Betty takes a long draw from her cigarette.
Gavin tells her it’s his birthday.
Betty’s friend, Madison, tells Gavin he’s cute.
Betty:Madison loves the boys.
So does Jessica.
She points to a girl flirting with X.
Betty:Good ole Hefner.
Eye rolllaughtermy head starts to ache.
Gavin:And you?
Betty:I’m not so easily won over.
Gavin takes Betty’s comment as a challenge,
dances away with the ladies.
Me:He’s gay!
I yell.
No luck.
They’re drunk.
I’m stuck.
Besides, Gavin’s great with girls
and, it appears
so is X.
Upon Where I Start Livin’ the Life
George is MIA
Ralph is glassy-eyed
April looks anxious to go home
I do too, after seeing Jessica.
Don’t want to drink
don’t want to think
don’t want a hangover
just want to paint.
Then X returns holding two red cups.
X:For my favorite new friend.
He gives one to April.
X:And my favorite female ever.
He leans in
smells my skin
tells me I’m a sexier picture
than anything some French Post-Impressionist could paint.
My heart pounds
palms sweat
thoughts race,
so I drink up.
Burns going down
lightens me up
I relax.
X wraps his arms around me and we
move in and out of the crowd.
Quickly, I’m feeling fantastic
like Gauguin greatness
a million-dollar mural.
X chats with guys, girls,
high-fives something into their hands.
Everyone knows him
happy to see him
and because I’m with him,
happy to see me too.
I’m not a high school girl
crashing this party.
I’m the girlfriend of X and
I’m livin’ the life.
The Bathroom
Drinking, drinking, I’m so thirsty!
Now I have to pee.
Waiting for the single bathroom,
I lean against the wall to see.
Blurry, dizzy, I’m so silly
knocking photos down.
A crash.
We laugh.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
I fumble with the frame to hang it,
but oh so many nails.
Which one is the real one?
Which ones are the spinning ones?
I take the photo to the bathroom,
sit upon the pot.
An image of a little girl
holding her daddy’s arm.
This must be a girl that lived here
before she threw these fetes.
She was just a little girl
who held her daddy’s hand.
I close my eyes and think about this
until I get the spins.
Next, I vomit in the toilet
Oops!
the alcohol wins.
I set the frame upon the sink
and leave to find my friends.
Bye-bye little girl so sweet.
Bye-bye daddy holding her hand.
With Gavin
4:30 in the morning
sneaking into Gavin’s house
we shush each other quietly.
Gavin shushes me
I shush April
April shushes the door handle.
We tiptoe through the living room
down the stairs
to the basement,
Gavin’s bedroom.
By shushing we become noisy.
Luckily, Gavin’s parents are heavy sleepers.
Me:Happy Birthday.
Lying in the room
in a borrowed
T-shirt and sleeping bag,
I whisper to Gavin.
April’s already asleep
snoring,
her black eyeliner smudged around her eyes.
I roll over, about to go to sleep when
my friend whispers
almost inaudible
very faintly
super quietly,
Gavin:I like him.
Does he want me to hear?
or not?
I close my eyes and dream of red plastic cups
stacked to the sky
forming
something big.
Freewheeling
On the last day of classes X pulls
into the high school parking lot
on a Vespa.
Everyone checks us out.
Even Ted mutters something
to one of his jock-head friends
over his shoulder
under his breath
behind my back
as I walk by.
I pretend not to hear him.
It’s been over between us for ages.
Well, in high school time, that is.
Me:Nice wheels.
When did he buy a Vespa?
X:Just borrowing it.
And, off we go,
racing through the streets of Chicago
wind flying through th
e pieces of hair
wiggling out from under my helmet.
I think fast
fun
crazy
lawless
thoughts
as X speeds in and out of lanes
gliding
onto Lake Shore Drive.
X:You ready for this?
I wrap my arms tighter around his waist, kiss his neck.
This means Yes.
Yes
Wherever we’re about to go
whatever we’re about to do,
Yes.
Up Ashland Avenue
down West Webster
over a bridge,
Yes.
X signals with his arm because his blinker is broken.
In flux.
He takes off his helmet
pulls a latch
opens a square lid perfectly hidden within the bridge.
He jumps down
holds out his hand and
I follow him into the alcove.
Closing the lid—there we are—under the bridge
floating above the Chicago river.
Hidden away in our private Paris along the Seine,
Oui.
I gasp.
Before I can ask, X covers my lips with his fingers,
kisses me hardwetintense
causing a dizzywarmswirl
in my head.
Something big is on its way …
His hands run underneath my shirt,
unclasp my bra.
My hands move through his hair
and I pull
close
closer
closest
to him yet.
Sex
My bra
my shirt
the late-May air.
His hands
my body
the canvas of me.
The shivers
the glances
does he like what he sees?
He smiles a leaky smile
and I wonder—
Am I like the wafting desire in his roommate’s lyric?
Am I still his cutie?
Am I ready for what’s to come?
Just then—a banging—people
walking over the bridge
over our heads
totally unaware that we’re
under here
nestled in our own little built-in cubbyhole.
X:It’s a secret maintenance area.
He touches me.
X:The city never locks the latch, so we have to be quiet.
It’s publicprivatetotally sexy
and that’s when I know
all these things I probably shouldn’t be doing
I am going to do
Dating Down Page 5