November 14, 2010 - 12:32 p.m.
I never told him
that it was my first time,
the man I slept with
the man, more of a boy
I didn't want him to have the upper hand
the knowledge
that would allow him to think
perhaps
that he was taking something from me
it would always be mine
that first time,
never belonging to someone else
never an exchange of power,
a moment of transformation,
that i would allow someone else to take credit for,
to add to their own sense of power or ownership
I owned that moment,
self-possessed
still,
appearing to you
to be in control
not knowing what the hell I was doing,
but knowing, too
that you would never realize it
that somewhere in your head, you were thinking of other things,
which was better than what you could have been thinking
had you known
It should have been a sign
right then and there
a big red octagon
or a yield
that I was giving in to some felt, but misunderstood pressure,
the desire to simply move with the flow of traffic
to avoid being pulled over
and questioned
while questioning myself
the entire time.
I could not afford to have witnesses
if this first time caused an accident
was itself the accident
a collision
between bodies, and tired metaphors
you were just so excited that it was happening
and I was happy you didn't ask
I allowed you to think I was comfortable, knowing, confident
and straight
I had played that part so well
so long
I had a license
You were the subject, the vehicle, the test drive
Testing myself
testing the reactions, when pressure was applied,
how would the vehicle respond?
I put a lot of miles on you
road test, parked in strange places,
fogging up windows,
never getting rid of the fog in my head,
staring out of dull eyes,
powerful with the weight and power of you beneath my hands
You were testing too,
a subject that would dent and scratch you,
no wonder I was such a good girlfriend,
ready to try anything, ready to get in the car and drive away
to anywhere
unpossessive of your thoughts and time
perhaps because I didn't care that much
you were a ride, hitched and hijacked
knowing you were sitting, side by side, never really speaking,
never connecting, never suspecting,
one so driven
never knowing that I had never thumbed a ride
until now, never knowing the danger I was in
so confused and mixed in my metaphors
I slid my body next to yours and knew you would open every door, without question, 'like the start of a porno, ... or a serial killing'
you never questioned your luck, so young and willing
until years later, you could hardly have been surprised
We never consciously used eachother
I knew you liked it, and you never wondered why I did
it wouldn't have occurred to you
It sunk in, soles of shoes, imprinted in mud and gravel in knees,
all around the frame of beds and cars, parked in parking lots, outside of the church, by the train tracks, picturesque and predictably placed by a creek,
the scene of a crime, a love story,
whatever we might call it
I lied to you
letting your hands feel their way around each part of me,
letting myself find out and forget
and look into your eyes to see myself
to try
to recognize
in your absence
what was absent in me
