Damn,

there's something about you
that makes me want to take you

on my hometown grand tour
to see the house across the field

where I would dodge ground bees
that stung my bare feet; the playground

where I KO'd the kid right off
the monkey bars; that third floor

high school corner window, there,
where notes were slipped across aisles

during sixth period English; the old gym -
plain girls died a thousand deaths

walking the AM gauntlet of bleachered studs -
the A&W, the roller rink, the beach

cove where my bra was sweet-talked off
the first time. Take me there,

my matching rib, so I can do it right
for the very first time.

April 2006