Posted by: Artsy Squibbles | September 25, 2006

Fourteen Maybe

If I hadn’t lost my storage in California…I’d still have that couch. The one that I got my first feel of what sex was going to be all about. I remember it well.  Wooden rails, black naugahyde (the other word for pleather) cushions that wouldn’t detract from the bright abstract area rugs. I was fourteen, maybe a couple of weeks away from fifteen. And kissing was so good. He was a few months older than me.  And so handsome with his brown hair waving across his forehead. There was a fire place in the basement and that stereo. Yes, the one that still played forty fives but you had to go and find the doo-mah-hikky to stack a bunch so you could flow with the moment instead of changing a record between each new found facial g-spot. This space was a haven away from eyes, a so called game room without a pool table. A nice distance from intrusive parents. I was trusted and behaved accordingly. At fourteen. And he was a good kisser. Not great. But good. We were learning about curves and texture, taste and sensations.

winnowing

i don’t remember his eyes any more

too many years have gone by

but the feel of his lips still lingers

and the memories start to fly

from inside my heart and out of the past

what a way to replenish this fast

from my turbulent years

all the pain is still there

beneath a layer of tears

so many dreams/ that were shared/ with the closest  of friends/ knowing that we/had been scared/not knowing/lost, and so love depends…on each other

going from girlhood to teenage  green

at least there’s decent thoughts between.

oh what a way to start this becoming

this finding a real woman at last

oh, what a great way to start a new life

oh what a way to replenish this fast

This almost once a woman

and once not quite a wife.

so many dreams/ that were shared/ with the closest  of friends/ knowing that we/had been scared/not knowing/lost, and so love depends…on each other

time will never remove

a single moment 

each one a pearl strung

on an endlessly swirling strand

nothing can replace the thoughts as we

began to make our stand…to the world. 

i don’t remember what he wore,

or the smell of his skin next to mine.

But I remember the touch of his lips

…nectar from the vine.

_______________________________________________

I began this poem/post on Sunday…changed my blog to red…primarily because I had been to the mall on Friday and had that glimpse of christmas madness creeping towards us like giant money grabbing tentacles. Did I mean to say money has us by our balls!

 

This from MSN was for 09-25-06

Aquarius:
You may feel like going back to being a kid in junior high, dear Aquarius, just going through puberty and joining your pals in animated discussions about who likes who, and who is going out with whom. Follow up your whim with phone calls to close friends who would be happy to share in your whimsical nature. Wear red today in order to serve as a reminder of the radiance of your loving heart.

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