The thought had not crossed my mind, though his it likely had.

Our mutual uncertainty

awkwardness, sparked fumbling

illuminated the room, hilariously so

following our uninhibited unburdening--

ridiculous, insecure, how could we not have known

the shy touches and voluminous conversation

deep embraces, the gentle sprouting of expressed admiration

meant more than friendship.

How poorly it was concealed

behind a guise of

nothing.

With no explanation

we shirked the obvious.

He asked if he could kiss me

and like, previously

the possibility of desire

all this time I did not consider.

Only later, once the query expanded: if we could?

without a condom, and yes immediately

was whispered, did I begin

to consider the implications.

Pleasure found under his hands and mouth

bleeds to a white reflection that I

have no plan for sectioning my emotions.

If a strategy will keep him here

in my bed

and out of my affections

I don't implement it.

Without a condom! A thin suggestion

that my tongue has never cleaned another's sweat from his neck

that there is deeper meaning in this:

lips brushing, fingers fighting a belt

trivial gestures in swollen proportions

small movements outlining impossibly great sensations.

With the question comes fear, a cold trickle seeping

occasionally pooling against my skin where it caresses his

fear of a solitary animal shadowing us

in eerie pantomime insisting

that eventually this will be less pleasing.

Night sweeps in repeatedly with apathy.

Between its comings are a hundred opportunities to confront the matter

raised by a neglected condom.

But conversation is sweet

the cross of his arms aches shattered teeth

and I remain silent to avoid a self-fulfilling prophecy.

From experience I stroke the sneaking sense that our conviviality is liable to ruin,

that my fingers, probing the triangular sliver above his collarbone

crawl to a familiar bitterness, and

my mouth pressed against his shoulder while I close my tired eyes

to a vision of concentric circles

and attempt to inhale some imagined essence

is transient.

You were still handsome then

your curly black hair framed flawless skin

and straight teeth white in a smile

above spindly fingers probing the neck of your guitar, thrashing spider legs

crawling through my ears

plucking my emotions like flowers

cascading on a river bank

the soothing reverberations of your talent

enough to silence thoughts

the improbability of greatness

in a person before me

a man with average abilities besides--

--or boy, as you were

with a future as bright as your eyes

skimming Glendora Mountain’s winding Road

your right hand bucking jerkily

on the shifter of your yellow ’82 VW bus

while your left rubbed your nose amid laughter

Yes I like it you said

yes I do

and I laughed too

the crowing instigator of a new sensation for you

your partner in crime

who brought the coke and lined it

on a CD case

behind the grassy hillside

I worried that I would dig the hole too deep and narrow

collapsing the walls in on myself

I worried that I would, in my chemical experiments

develop an addiction

but I never worried about you.

Far more responsible than I

safe in the embrace of a loving wealthy family

the doted upon only child

I envied

I never thought you would be the one

to trip and trip and never catch your step

Because to me you were a mix of endearing idiosyncrasies

and intelligent conversations

jokes evolving faster than viruses

and your naivete when it was cute

an idealized version of you

causing most of your subsequent women

to hate me

for having you in some innocent past before

Your womanizing began

Your irresponsibility began

Your callousness began

Where did it all begin?

As much as I paradoxically hope not to find the beginning

I follow the thread but skin has grown over

Barely, a delicate layer that is sliced from beneath as I

Exhume intact a trailing hair from our past

So as much as I hope not to find it

in the end the root is clearly that twilight hour

driving down Glendora Mountain Road

high on your first addictive drug

that I supplied for you

And as much as you have forgiven me

by never blaming

and as much as bystanders advise

the pitfall was yours

a dully glowing pearl

waiting inside

for the right moment

that surely you would have found without me--

--As much as you are to blame

or maybe, considering the intricacies of fate,

more

I should not have shown you

that first step

on a long and monotonous staircase

to the crystal ceiling