July 2, 2007

Boy from Queens

He was a boy from Queens.
Smoked red Marlboros, talked
out the side of his mouth,
and kissed like a demon.

His mother would call him,
and I'd hear
her wet staccato voice.
He would say, patiently,
"Ma, Ma, I'm fine, I'm all right. Be home soon."

He handled me clumsily but well. He would say
"God, you are fuckin' pretty,"
while I melted all over
his leather coat.

Right now, he's probably telling
some other eighteen-year-old
she's so fuckin' pretty,
and when his wife calls, says,
"I'm fine, I'm all right. Be home soon."

1 comment:

BradyDale said...

Yeah, this one reminds me a little too much of things that I don't need to be reminded of right now. Well done, but I suppose I should stop before I get any sadder. You're being very honest though. It must be sort of scary.