Presents From Jim

Presents From Jim Nineteen sixty-nine. The autumn fair was in Athens. I was sixteen. You had finished your senior year. You threw well aimed darts, and loaded my arms with cheap stuffed toys; soft treasures for my bed. Arms and objections occupied, I leaned tight while you held me from behind, whispering unfamiliar syllables into my warming ear. I remember your hands, and how I wanted the force of them firm around my breasts; fingertips exploring chilled hard nipples. Old enough to want, too young to recognize the scent you were leaving on my expectations. You stood silhouetted against carnival lights; Ferris wheel colors haloing your dark hair. I grabbed my instamatic; snapped a hunk of you as you left for California. And I am still here. Shirley Alexander © 2009

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Filed under mature, poetry

2 responses to “Presents From Jim

  1. A wistful poem, which gives the reader a sense of something lost. There is a song by Dave Loggins called “Please Come to Boston,” and this poetry makes me think of it, probably because of the somewhat sad last line. Beautiful work.

    • Thank you, Jerry. It’s good to “see” a friend here. I’ve had this for site for a long time, but didn’t do anything with it until this morning, when I saw the mess on Myspace. So, while I was up (felt better for a while), I came here and gave it a name, and posted three poems. I’m glad you like this one. It’s one of my personal favorites. Like many of my poems these past few years, it is a from a chapter of my own life. X Shirley