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