Jennifer, dark-haired, olive-skinned,
studious, with Goldwater glasses,
introduced me one afternoon
in her Harvard dormitory
to the poems of One Times One:
she was sitting on the bed,
cross-legged, barefoot, as she read
if everything happens that can’t be done.
Alexis, petite, with honey-coloured curls,
acted a scene with me
from The Lion in Winter
(Eleanor of Aquitaine, Henry Plantagenet)
where we had to kiss.
She surprised me by nudging
my tongue with hers.
Becca was a bit younger,
literate and brassy:
we scooped ice-cream together in the Square
that Tracy Chapman summer.
I liked her frank language
(I’d call her Boris, as in Boris Becker,
and she'd clobber me with four-letter insults).
I shared her love of old movies:
Spencer Tracy, Cary Grant,
and the two Hepburns.
Michelle was sweet,
small, gentle, pale:
didn't quite seem twenty,
more like early teens.
She told me of classes
where she had learned Hebrew
through Peanuts comic strips
where ha ha would be rendered with a chet.
We’d watch cheesy sitcoms in her dorm room,
or fling a kooshball at each other in mine.
She might have even told me knock-knock jokes.
Once we playfully tussled,
and one of her socks came off.
Poetry by Uncle Meridian
Read 46 times
Written on 2023-08-16 at 03:13
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