Blue Lips (Please Don’t Read This If You Blush Easily)

Remember that evening when

Your dress was tight and your lips melancholy blue?

That evening when

You had an eyelash in your eye

That you couldn’t blink away,

That evening when

You drank too much wine

And told me things you never told anyone before,

And wept a little, wiping your cheeks with your sleeves,

And then blew your nose in a borrowed handkerchief

So hard that the wind began to howl,

So hard that you had to throw your arms around my neck

And cling to me

Like a bra to a clothesline on a windy day,

And then by chance, by luck, by fate

We staggered to your room

Where you pushed me on your bed

And sought to remove my hat

At which point I became afeard

And cried out,

‘Please do not!

For it is late and you are drunk,

And what you do tonight you might regret tomorrow,

And truth be told, I am but a boy,

And you are tall,

And if you were to kiss me,

You would have to stoop,

And if you stoop,

You may become hunchbacked.’

You sighed and rearranged my hat,

And then you said,

‘It’s okay. I got my period anyway.’

Without warning you slipped your dress over your head,

And I covered my eyes with my hands,

And you chuckled and stretched on the bed,

Pulling over us the virgin sheets,

And your head fell on my chest

And you wept a little more,

And I stroked your glossy hair

And rolled it behind your ear,

And with my fingertips

Traced the contour of your haughty nose

And scooped a tear and tasted it,

(So salty it was that it could have seasoned a whole cauldron of soup)

And then, when I thought you were asleep

Your shameless hand crept

Where it should have not,

And before I could protest

You disappeared under the sheets,

And to my alarm began

Unbuttoning my pantaloons,

Slowly, not with haste, one button at a time,

With a careful, practiced grace,

And then, alas, you tortured me with your soft hands,

And with your hair tickled my thighs,

And what ensued I know not

But I saw the sheets rise and fall,

And fearing death,

I lay there quiet, powerless, and still

The happy victim of your will.

*

If you don’t remember it’s okay,

Because it did not really happen,

Other than in my wicked mind.

I wish it did, though,

Because then, the morning after,

Once you would have sobered up,

And regretted what you did,

And rushed to the bathroom,

And brushed your teeth not once but twice,

And cleaned your lips with soap,

And drank a glass of chlorine,

(And yet survived)

And then returned to bed

Resolved to throw me out,

I would have had an excuse,

An excellent excuse,

To take your hand and kiss you on the mouth

And fall on my knees before you,

And protest my love,

And beseech you to be,

My friend,

My sister,

My mother,

My lover,

And perchance even my wife.

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