Partly Cloudy (4 page)

 

The birds and the bees
Until later.

I think of you miles away.
We're on vacation, surf and sun,

 

And campfires under icy stars.
You're lovely. I draw hearts in the sand,

 

And the wind nudges them away.
That's okay. It's practice.

 

With the beach as my canvas, I draw hearts,
And the tide at four in the afternoon

 

Laps at the edges, dissolves our initials.
But our love will never wash away.

 

I'll be back in two days,
Sand under my fingernails,

 

Some in my ears from laying my head
On the beach and thinking of you.

They say love makes you speechless,
That it takes your breath away,

 

And right now, as you round
The corner in the hallway,

 

I, who was telling a friend about the F chord
On a guitar, become speechless.

 

You pass, and I double over,
Like when, in first grade, Marc Steinberg

 

Hit me in the stomach
And took my breath away.

 

But this strike, this beauty of yours,
Is another kind of hurt.

With a pen, I drew little faces
On your fingertips, ten in all,
And you said, “You love me, huh?”
They were happy faces.
You showed them to your
Friend, who laughed,
Clapped, and said,
“Wow, you're so lucky, girl.”

 

That was between third
And fourth period,
And by fifth period—
I don't know how
This happened—I fell
In love with this other
Girl, a musician who
Plays first violin in orchestra.

 

You and I met after school.
I kicked leaves, bit
My upper and lower lip
A hundred times,
And then confessed,
“You know Rebecca...”
You made a face, cried.
You raised your hands
And wiggled the fingertips
At me—the ink had run.
Each little face
Was sobbing, dropping
Little black tears.

Already tall at thirteen, she walks
In platform shoes. I can't help

 

But think like a guy.
We could use a center—

 

We're 0–3 at the start of the season,
And so ugly on the court

 

We could use beauty.

I rode over on my bike
And you hopped onto the bar,
Giggled when I took the grassy hill
Down your lawn to the park.
We lay on the grass,
Half in, half out of shadows
And smiled sleepily at the sky.
I kissed your knuckles
And you kissed me
Near my mouth,
Then on my mouth.
We then watched a couple
From a wedding party
Pushing a car. “See,” I said,
“See how much love costs?”
The flowers in the woman's hair
Scattered like confetti
And with each push from
The back fender,
Anger sparked
From her knife-sharp heels.

What's the meaning of time?
You said, “I'll be with you forever.”

 

We lasted two weeks, one afternoon,
A half hour, a few minutes,

 

A sweep of seconds on the last day
Of the solstice. This sorrow

 

You gave me remains.
I could paw at the calendar of hurt,

 

And you'll be there
Like radium, like uranium,

 

Whatever element lasts forever.
But who cares about me?

 

Some joker said, “Love is eternal
As long as it lasts.”

 

I feel him.

The storm dropped six feet of snow,
And with it, an electrical wire in front of our house.

 

It snaps and moves like a snake.
When will the police arrive?

 

Or a worker who will set safety cones in the road?
Isn't it a hazard, a hot wire in snow?

 

School is closed. The house is dark.
I'm thinking of you huddled near a candle.

 

If I knew you were in trouble,
I would take a shovel and shovel my way

 

To your house, six blocks away,
And risk live wires hissing like snakes.

 

Love, I know, can be hazardous to my health.

Tired of the same cats in the Dumpster,
Tired of blaring radios, of gangsters with their grills,

 

We rode one bike to the park,
Where we bought a single bottle of water

 

And lay on the spongy grass. I told you
Three times that I loved you,

 

And you said, “Okay, write it on my shoulder.”
You showed me your pinkish shoulder,

 

And I wrote,
Luv you, Madison.
It was then
I understood we are flesh and blood,

 

And, like all others, we will die in time.
We lay on the grass, not touching,

 

Just facing the immense sky. Clouds rolled
And migrating ducks, dark as commas,

 

Were flying south. I closed my eyes.
I took your hand in mine and imagined us dead,

 

With the world wheeling above us
But you at my side, Madison, you and I touching

 

For all of time.

I don't have much to offer
But this pomegranate,
A fruit ancient as the Nile,
A fruit that bleeds like a heart.
I can only think of how beautiful you are.

 

If I could crack open this pomegranate
And share it with you,
Would that be a nice gift?
We could nibble these jewels,
Smile red smiles.

 

I wait at the curb, tossing the pomegranate
From one hand to the other.
Come out, please. I'm waiting.
How many times will I juggle
This ancient fruit before it drops?
If I do—and it splits open
To reveal its jewels—
I'll give you the largest part.

When she said no,
I took my loneliness to the river,

 

Frozen only a month ago.
Sunlight lit the first blossoms of spring

 

And made early March appear beautiful.
But it wasn't for me.

 

I stared at the slow cargo of blossoms,
And the ripples that hurried them along.

 

I kicked sand that sprayed like salt,
And sighed a dozen times.

 

I noticed driftwood that resembled arms
And legs. That's how I felt,

 

Lifeless, in other words.
You may laugh, but I bent over the river,

 

Adding to that ancient flow,
A young man's sadness when a girl says no.

It was rude of me to bend down
And read what it said on your ankle,

 

But it was unkind
Of you to walk away.

 

I had to follow like a duck,
Until you stopped—you placed

 

Your shoe on my thigh.
I retied your loose shoelaces,

 

And got to read the name
On your ankle bracelet—Jenny.

 

That was the first time we touched—
Your shoe on my thigh,

 

And your little toes,
Wiggling behind the cloth

 

Of worn tennis shoes.
It was so cute—the little toe

 

Was peeking out,
Peeking at me!

To travel, we can use our imagination,
Or so says Mr. Fried, our English teacher.
If we just picked up a book,
We could be in France, Brazil, or Norway.
Mr. Fried, you're a nice man,
But, please,
you
pick up the book
And float on an iceberg to Norway!
You
swat mosquitoes in hot, hot Brazil.
After school, I'm rolling
My skateboard thirty-three blocks,
Sixteen of which I'll be terrorized
By pit bulls and thugs lurking
Like vultures on car fenders.
You see, I have a girl
On the other side of town.
I don't want to read
About love, but feel love—
Her hand in mine,
Her hair against my throat,
And the pink bud of her tongue...

 

She's shy as a pony and just as tall.
Mr. Fried, you're a nice man,
A smart man. I'm sure if I told you
About my girl and me,
You could write a book.

Love, come to my house
And we'll climb my roof—
I read on the Internet
The moon will rise at 7:28
Over a forest of TV antennas
And the trees rustling their confetti
Of heart-shaped leaves.
Let the neighbors watch
What they watch. But let us, my love,
Watch the moon lift the stars.
Don't we know our planets?
We could count them out,
One by one, and admit to ourselves
That Venus is our favorite.
The planet of love?

 

I may be wrong.
But I'm not wrong about you,
And that the moon will not wait—
It rises at 7:28, and if you
Arrive before then
I will take your hand and lead you up
The ladder, you a star,
My Venus rising.

Out of love,
I'm going to walk

 

Into the forest
And sit next to

 

A gray boulder.
Rain will fall,

 

Thickets grow
Around my feet

 

Until after
So many years

 

I will blend into
That boulder.

 

Then another boy
My age, hurt

 

In the heart,
Will hunker next to me.

 

Rain will fall,
Hawks settle

 

On his hardening
Shoulders

 

Until he, too,
Becomes a boulder.

 

Time passes.
Shooting stars cut across

 

The sky. The president declares
It a national park.

 

Hikers will climb
Over and step

 

Around these boulders
In the forest, where boys go

 

When a girl says no.

Through the glass door greasy with fingerprints,
I couldn't help it. My eyes slid

 

From you to a girl in a red halter,
Tight jeans, sandals, straight blond hair,

 

Freckles on her shoulders, a toe ring...
I was taking inventory of her beauty,

 

And you caught me. I asked lamely,
“Does she go to our school?”

 

You narrowed your eyes at me,
Flashed red coals from deep inside you,

 

Wherever you keep your anger.
We walked in silence to the next store,

 

Me, a little dog, a few steps behind.

From then on he couldn't sleep.
And if his stepmother
Made him his favorite meat loaf,
He propped his chin
On his hand and thought,
Just one bite
—
I'm not really hungry.
He couldn't do his homework.
He couldn't do his chores.

 

When a friend called
And said, “Hey, man, let's lift weights,”
He moaned that he was sick.
He was lovesick.
He couldn't get this girl
Out of his mind.

 

He wished that he could go
To the pharmacy and stagger down
An aisle to find Love Medicine—
In liquid and tablet forms
And, perhaps, Band-Aids to apply
To his heart, for he hurt there
And other places.

 

He would examine boxes
And read the instructions,
“Take every hour. If symptoms worsen
Discontinue use and consult your doctor.”
If only there was
Medicine to correct his dizziness
Over this girl in algebra.
But she was the medicine, a remedy.
She was the doctor pressing
A cool hand to his forehead
And cooing, “There, there. All better.”

My girlfriend was bouncing down
The hallway, so happy, so full of love,
And her hair lifting beautifully
After each bouncy step.