He was tall and muscular with wide blue eyes and reminded her of her ex-boyfriend
Like the way he kissed her full on the mouth,
And called her a dirty slut as he felt her up.
He seemed strong and masculine and dangerous,
Exactly the cure she needed for her devastation,
The loneliness that overtook her like a cloud
And made her chain smoke until everything looked extra clear
The way it did when she tried to train for a marathon
To impress the man who decided he couldn't love her any longer.
He looked at her strangely and asked her to go home with him
And of course she resoundingly accepted
To leave this bare basement filled with menthol cancer clouds.
He was just a child, this boy who drove her to his parent's house.
A boy in a man's body, her first kiss
Since her last first kiss,
A younger version of the last one, and her first passionate kiss
That she could remember in years.
His house was typical and cluttered and it smelled like the happy dog
That sniffed at her fingers and rolled on her feet.
He took her up to his room and poured his heart out,
like the kid he used to be when she last knew him.
His walls were outer space and his ceiling was patched with glowing stars
and she laughed later bitterly, but at the time it seemed right.
He didn't try to have sex with her.
They slept intertwined and it felt natural to her, the way she was used to.
When she woke he was a man again.
He drove her home and didn't ask for her number
And she wasn't surprised,
she said, but she was lying.
He never did call her, the man,
But she didn't miss him,
She didn't need anybody, anymore
She told herself as she lay alone
Staring at her ceiling, empty of the stars and their glow.
