Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Playing

in your bedroom -- you touched me
it didn't spark a fire -- or make me ache with desire
i don't remember the day or the hour
of when it started
i don't remember much -- you had the power
you were a little older
and i was shy and lonely
you moved me about like clay
i didn't walk out
i returned whenever you would say
and let you script the play
you didn't thrill me -- there was no love to fill me
at a certain point
you the leader -- didn't know what to do
i the follower -- had an instinctive clue
but was too shy to tell you
at the time it meant nothing
i pretended to be your boy
you treated me like a toy
how was i to know
that later it would become something
something that i can't shake loose
now i'm suffering mental abuse
oh hell -- what's the use -- remembering
you got on with your life -- if only i could
now you're a wife -- with a kid, two
for a time i wondered
would i be different
if i hadn't played with you.
--------
NOTE:
No I wouldn't be different. This girl was only 3 years older than me. I was her boy/GF for a while. I remember we were sitting in a tree, close to the street, and she leaned in to kiss me, but we realised we were visible from the street. That tree is gone because the wild field is now a parking lot. (They paved paradise.) We use to make a tent with a blanket, hang it from a fence, put newspapers up so nobody could see in. It was right outside the apartments so anybody could have walked up and looked in. We collapsed her bed one day. People were downstairs. "What's that" they called. "Nothing" we laughed."

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