Virginans
In my house
He shrugs into a
Black leather jacket
We are to see
The genesis of a myth
From our separate childhoods
In a run-down theater
Where in my golden youth
I managed to drag my father
To an episode of the same saga.
In my absorption with the
Warm solidity of broad body
against which I lean,
I have forgotten
I have forgotten the time I fell
In love in this same room
Back when the velvet seats
Were whole and the fabric thick and soft
When the carpet was clean
And the lobby milled with excited people
Buying popcorn and candy
And complaining because tickets were now FOUR WHOLE DOLLARS
I have forgotten the time
When I felt the power
Of being able to "steal"
Another girl's love.
(I have forgotten also
The shame of recalling that act
As a grown woman)
Now the theater seats
Are worn
And the carpet dirty
And the concessions stand ill-stocked
And the tickets only a dollar
And I am grateful to leave those teenage years behind
The screen holds even greater magic
The arm around me is not that of an awkward boy
And I can rest his hand on his thigh in easy intimacy
Without the dizzy uncertainty of an unsure girl
And I glad to be done with youth
It could not compare to the warm solidity
Of the chest against which I lean
Or the smoothness of the skin I will caress by candlelight that night
Nor the tidal wave of lust that no young girl could love.
© 1999, Noël Lynne Figart