Monday’s Verse 9-10-07

Hi all,

Are you feeling the end-of-summer blues? Are you regretting the slow
painful death of your summer fling? Or is that feeling easier to let
go now that age (for some of us!) makes it harder to capture in the
first place? Do the songs from “Grease” have any relation to your
life? Are flutterings in the stomach more likely to be caused by
Szechuan food than flirtation? Those kinds of questions made this
anonymous poem make a lot of sense to me. I like this one: the
anaphora in the penultimate stanza is really appropriate for its
(nearly!) nihilistic idea. Seriously, someone’s gotta have a personal
reflection to enlighten us all here. And no, it’s not gonna be me. I
hate Mustangs. -ed.

Making Out in a Mustang

We kissed in his Mustang
Arched over the center consul
Smelling the warm beer on his breath
His arm reaching around my waist

Hardly a word spoken
We had chattered on all night
Only kisses exchanged now

It was a moment of satisfaction
After months of interrupted flirtation
Now uninterrupted

I felt fifteen again
The next morning I felt fifty
Hung over and tired

What a fool for having a crush
At my age–as if I never learned
From my first round of puberty

He did not call
Nor did I

I am not sure what I was expecting
But there was a spark?
Our banter did have a rhythm?

We sought each other out at every opportunity
Heads tossed and knees touched at communal meals
Then we kissed, after a late night in a crappy bar

No exaltations
No divine visions
No glimpse into each other’s souls

Just the smell of beer
The feel of hands over skin
And the feeling of being too old
To go through it all again.


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