Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Upon remembering what it was like to be 18

I literally just finished reading Fangirl, by Rainbow Rowell. Seriously, I read the last page about 15 minutes ago. I'm not going to launch into a review of the book here (BTW, I thought it was fantastic) but I can tell you that it made me feel all the feels. It made me remember what it was like to be 18. Made me remember all of the horror and glory. So now that I've got the feels and caffeine coursing through my system - - here's the start of a poem. I'm sure there is much more to this buried underneath 13 years of brain stuff, but this is what I've got right now...


Golden Delicious

Feeling my way through the pieces of yesterday. Some of them are smooth like a worry stone in your pocket. Others are jagged and painful like a chipped front tooth. My voice is singing old songs. Lips and tongue moving on auto pilot. I can smell the second hand smoke. I can taste the cold Pad Thai mixed with lukewarm coffee.

Makes me think of all the times I wouldn't take your hand. Wouldn't return your winks. Wouldn't let you know that my heart was speeding up. Couldn't look you in the eye for too long. Just because you looked at me. Just like that. Because I couldn't tell if it was me that was special, or you.

I hear the Talking Heads and remember how we thought we were so sophisticated, listening to their greatest hits on repeat. Drinking our wine out of the gallon jug. 

Up floats the memory of kissing you for the first and only time on your sun porch.
I remember wanting directions despite the short and direct climb up and into your lap. I remember laughing at how skinny you were; not less of a man, and not that it mattered in the least.

Your hair was perfect and your smile was not and that’s what did it for me. To me.
Your stupid Elvis smile that wasn't really a smile. More of a smirk.

Either way, it tasted delicious. 
Not in a Golden Apple way, but in the winning and approval sort of way.

You swallowed me whole. Heart and soul.
Fingers and toes. 
I didn't want to lose myself, but it certainly seemed that you found me quick enough.



Because you've earned it - - here's a photograph of me during the summer of my 18th year. Heaven only knows why I was laughing in a bathtub...