third man girl
New Member
I tiptoed into Bryan’s room – well, the door was open. He was gazing through the window, talking softly. I listened to him reminiscing, as his voice lilted, low, and then happy.
“Bryan,” I whispered, and he wheeled around.
“Oh!” He reddened. “I was just . . . collecting my thoughts.”
“Collecting your memories?”
He smiled, and stepped closer. “Mmm. Remembering the first time I –”
“Bryan. Will you write it down? Write me a poem?”
He lifted my hand, and his fingernail roved like a pencil on my palm. He glanced up. “For you, I’ll write it down. My first time – my initiation.”
Initiation
Remember the time
In the hot, sweet grass.
Your first fumbled kiss
With that girl from your class.
Remember the half-brick.
Its density, mass.
The launch through the air
And the shattering glass.
Remember the L-plate
You tore with your hands.
The chance to go further
Expand all your plans.
Remember your sister.
Your tight fist; her shame.
The good-looking Spanish boy
His cherry-picking game.
Remember your mother
Her glittering eyes.
Your graduation –
Her hard-earned prize.
Remember the key
To the dingy old flat.
Your mate with the cudgel.
The cockroach. The rat.
Remember your guilt.
And tears the girl cried,
When you held her in bed
And explained how love died.
Remember the hiss
and the sting of the brand.
As his iron kissed your shoulder
And made you a man.
~ Bryan ~
Third Man Girl
“Bryan,” I whispered, and he wheeled around.
“Oh!” He reddened. “I was just . . . collecting my thoughts.”
“Collecting your memories?”
He smiled, and stepped closer. “Mmm. Remembering the first time I –”
“Bryan. Will you write it down? Write me a poem?”
He lifted my hand, and his fingernail roved like a pencil on my palm. He glanced up. “For you, I’ll write it down. My first time – my initiation.”
Initiation
Remember the time
In the hot, sweet grass.
Your first fumbled kiss
With that girl from your class.
Remember the half-brick.
Its density, mass.
The launch through the air
And the shattering glass.
Remember the L-plate
You tore with your hands.
The chance to go further
Expand all your plans.
Remember your sister.
Your tight fist; her shame.
The good-looking Spanish boy
His cherry-picking game.
Remember your mother
Her glittering eyes.
Your graduation –
Her hard-earned prize.
Remember the key
To the dingy old flat.
Your mate with the cudgel.
The cockroach. The rat.
Remember your guilt.
And tears the girl cried,
When you held her in bed
And explained how love died.
Remember the hiss
and the sting of the brand.
As his iron kissed your shoulder
And made you a man.
~ Bryan ~
Third Man Girl
The way you turn simple moments into beautiful descriptive poetry is just amazing.
