March 25, 2009

Incommunicable, Me

by M. P. Powers

i could talk to her on the phone
that wasn't a problem
but there was something about seeing her in person.
all she wanted was to kiss me.
so we met under the lime trees.
nothing doing. we met in the shade of the cathedral.
nada. i couldn't even look at her.
so we tried again at my house, at the bottom of the staircase.
something wasn't right.
i was only ten
and eventually it became all-too tormenting
for my ten year old
brain. so i gave her the old heave-ho
even though i was in love with her
i wanted to concentrate on other things
like baseball, figuring out how best to pretend i was tough,
and the dukes of hazard. a couple of years
went by. in the meantime i was still in love with her, dragging
my feelings around. i remember hugging my pillow
and pretending it was
her. and then all the love songs that reminded me of her.
my first feelings of sexual frustration
were real. but still, something wasn't right.
i wasn't ready.
so when i saw her in the gymnasium
she was sitting in the row behind me with some friends
and i was with a friend and started feeling
the pressure again. my brain's blood
was thumping. so to save myself, i intimated she was
a whore.
had to be. it was some kind of hollow victory
which undoubtedly hurt her
feelings. but still, i think i felt just as bad
and probably worse
walking out of the gymnasium afterwards.
still in love. knowing i was a coward and a phony.
still with my pillow waiting for me at home
and more love
songs, which promised even more pain
when they came along.


Anonymous said...

I like the poems by Powers on Underground Voices better. I really liked those very much. Mather Schneider

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