A five-foot two dark haired
explosion of energy
sat in front of me
in English class
and yanked me
from the obscurity
of my self-imposed exile.

Two months, three weeks
and six days we jaunted
across unexplored acres
of adolescent innocence.
until our excursion ended
abruptly on a Friday night
after the football game

Kissing on her front porch
she stopped my left hand
from a quick tour of her breasts
by shoving it into my crotch
saying goodnight
and hurrying inside.
Through the crack

in the door she whispered
“Don’t call me anymore.”
Confused I cut through her back yard
to take the short way home.
At the side of her house
I noticed a light
in the bathroom window.

With the aid of a red
Coleman cooler I balanced myself
on the arms of a lawn chair
and watched her mother step
into the bathtub.
I watched until
she reached for a towel.