For Serial
We were lovers all those years ago. Before marriage and divorce left nasty notchmarks on my heart. Before children and work soaked up more energy than I’d been alotted. Back in a time when I was finally old enough to drink, party and have wild, unattached sex, yet too young to feel the lasting repercussions.
Our lovemaking was torrential. We used to bounce off walls and furniture, soak mattresses, leave lights on and curtains open on purpose. The thought of being watched heightened our climax. We sometimes caught a couple hours of sleep then woke up and had Sunday brunch with his roommates and family. I always analyzed their glances, wondering if they still heard dark cries of passion when our eyes met in daylight.
The man and I were never really in love. I cant’ remember why our trysts tapered off, they just did. Soon after, the real tournament of life began.
We’re all given a handful of arrows. They’re labeled “Dreams, Plans, Hopes, Expectation, Adventure.” You try to be as ready as possible. Take your best aim, throw with just the right amount of strength, and hope against hope each arrow lands it’s mark. Because we only get one shot. You might get to play another game with different stakes later in life, but not this time. This is it. When you watch arrow after arrow fail to even hit the board, you lose your sense of humor and tend not to want to play anymore.
I had cashed it all in and was only staying for the booze when he showed back up. Memories assailed me, resurrecting the smallest glimmer of hope. Hope and familiarity produced desire. A couple of dates in and we were clawing at each other’s clothes, fearful they would be incinerated if we didn’t get them off fast enough.
Foreplay is for people who have time and we had already squandered too much. He entered me like a car hits a wall in an impact test. I screamed then spent the next hours abusing him for all that was wrong in my life. We finally lay spent, sanity and tenderness returning to our tangled limbs. He whispered “baby, you’re like Disneyland. I could explore you forever” and the drab mommy dusted the mothballs off her confidence and got back in the game.
.
Said The Anonymous Friend To Me
Said the anonymous friend to me,
"You are adorable."
Said I back,
"As are you."
Said the anonymous friend to me,
"You are precious."
Said I back,
"As are you."
Said the anonymous friend to me,
"You are kind."
Said I back,
"As are you."
Said the anonymous friend to me,
"You are an adorable, precious cinnamon roll."
Said I back,
"What."