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meager protests with
full-lipped kisses.
He insists, Now.
She resists, “Later.”
He, Promise?
She, “Cross my heart.”
She Went Inside
I wasn’t sure if I felt more
disappointed or relieved.
Guinivere really had him.
So I shouldn’t want him. Should I?
I didn’t really want his perfect
pout, reaching hungrily
for my own timid lips.
I didn’t have a clue how to kiss.
Didn’t really want his hands,
investigating the hills
and valleys of my landscape.
I’d never been touched by a boy.
Didn’t want his face,
burrowing into my hair,
finding my neck. Tasting.
I’d never even said hello to such a complete stranger.
Didn’t want his smoke,
making me gag, making me
want to taste something so gross.
It was all so confusing, I mean,
I didn’t want a boyfriend,
no summer fling to make
me want to stay in this alien place.
