#21 Removed

my first love

phones ringing make me think of towers
and float back to Rockport in 1987,
where I swerved in a yellow gauze sundress,
sandals slung over shoulders, and danced

across the sand as Warren watched, smiling silent,
his “tutti-fruity” eyes leaping across the beach,
then he lead us to the lighthouse to be seen
by a woman with a distemperate husband

as we lovers watched the simmering sundown,
his huge, solid chest pressed against my back,
cheek against the top of my head, rocking
forward for the kiss of my beckoning hair.

and the husband watched too as Warren
wrapped up dusk against the salty spritzes,
both of us in his grey windbreaker, the ball
slowfalling as we four glowed warm and still.


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