'What, did you love him? ' Yes. <br />Almost automatically. Like my name <br />or my address. Picking at <br />broiled chicken, and string beans, <br />I face the proding questions <br /> <br />of my parents: tear-shed and exposed. <br />I would have run away with him, <br />if he had asked me. <br />Instead, he said, it's best i finish school. <br />[Instead, he said, it's best i leave on my own.] <br /> <br />Maybe, maybe we'll meet down the line. He doesn't know maybes <br />are never good enough. At his age, he is but a child. A man child. <br /> <br />Refusing to shower, for two <br />and a half days. Afraid that i <br />might wash the scent of him <br />off me: The scent of danger. <br />Of lust. Of complete & utter, <br /> <br />shameless <br />dominance. <br /> <br />Not knowing if, or when, it will come again. <br />I even contemplated returning <br />to his—our hotel room to refresh my lungs <br />& clear my head, with the memories. <br /> <br />To sit on his bed and stroke the comforter. <br />Stand by the glass window <br />where he would always ask when i straddled the sill: <br />'What are you going to jump? ' <br /> <br />I guess I carried that tired look, that jaded, fed-up, suicidal rage.<br /><br />s./j. goldner<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/come-september-come-now/
