her fingers felt funny for the first time

sometimes they’d make me laugh

mostly with one extended behind my father’s back

he always thought you were sweet

his word

not mine

i knew how that would twist and be redefined, years of college classes exercised

more so, listening when people speak

this “funny”, a newly-felt-defensive word, unease, an end near

prior, there were long strokes, wrist to unattended biceps, chin to cheek bone, i’d wince, you’re the only one who could invade my space, alone, trying to concentrate on the intention, not the sensation, a grown up tone, not teenage moans

those would come

i’d have to make sure it was you

cat-scratch back, i pretended to nap

you know i never could

this isn’t a longing poem

i’ve written enough of those

what could have been

what will be

will be

your movie ending reminded me of that

que sera

sera

sera

que?

they felt funny because i finally understood, you were connecting without a finality goal, prolonging the pull of unseen forces, no remorses

they felt funny, because i finally felt, how you feel