a fifteen year old
lying on her back
on the floor
in her boyfriend’s parent’s game room
upstairs with the lights off
and grey light streaming in
through suburban blinds
the credits are rolling on the tv
and he’s pressed the mute button
they lie there
wondering aloud what it will be like
when they’re married
“how will you make love to me?”
she asks, all blue-eyed and innocent
he’s innocent too.
“when you walk in the door
coming home from work,
i’ll pick you up in my arms
and lay you down on our
white bed -”
he stops
because she’s unable to breathe
“i’m sorry, i’ll stop.”
she smiles
“just thinking about you turns me on,”
she blurts out brashly,
pretending for a moment
she’s not an innocent fifteen year old
who has trouble breathing
when she thinks of sex
he smiles, strokes her arm
“sh. i’ll stop”
they were so young, so foolish
with no plans but this:
they would be together
but you need plans in a real world
you need good grades and college degrees
and real jobs
not our fancy free dreams of
directing / acting / teaching / preaching
legacies we thought would change the world
one movie / performance / lesson / sermon
at a time
you don’t change the world
then come back for lovemaking
you go make plans break hearts and struggle through
god tears you apart
god tore them apart
and leads them on to different things
futures as unknown and blank
and starkly beautiful
as that white marriage bed is
to a fifteen year old girl
and that future still keeps her
breathless and wondering
and facing it with
tremulous joyful fear
that woman-child
takes the hand of a divine lover
and walks on
