Poem 20150920

with the lights off
during the video
in world history
he leans forward enough
to put his hands on
her neck
her shoulders

her sweater is heavy
cable-knit and rough
under his moving fingers
the narrator talks and talks
about the barter system
and the beginnings of
banking

she moves her hair
and leans back
and he can touch
the skin of her neck
while he kneads her
flesh

his legs are just long enough
so that his knees press
against her
through open frame of her chair
his pants legs pressing
against the heavy skirt
that all the girls seem to wear
but it doesn’t matter

by the time the narrator has
started to talk about minted
currency his hands and her shoulders
are the same hot temperature

and when the lights come on
he slides his legs back
and she turns and whispers “thank you”
and he says “you’re welcome”
but really he’s saying “thank you” too
and they never speak of it
and it never happens again

Poem 20150202

in high school
my best friend’s dad, a cop
took us shooting one weekend
at a local range

i don’t remember where

there were a lot of rules about
when you could pick up the gun
when you could pop in the clip
where you could point it, loaded or not
and once i picked it up
before they gave the go ahead
and the man behind the bullet-proof glass
yelled at me
to lay the gun down
and every
single
eye
pinned
me
to
where
i
stood

they probably wondered if i
were insane or just stupid
but there was no doubt that i
was dangerous to a dugout full
of armed men

i put the gun down

his dad showed me how to shoot an automatic
but I wasn’t very good
even then my eyesight was bad
one time, the slide drew back
and sliced through the knuckle of my thumb
because I was holding it wrong
like a cop on tv

you never saw anyone’s knuckles
spurt blood on tv

my ears rang afterward
even with the headphones on