I Had It Bad

I'm reading tonight at a reading series called I Had It Bad and it's about unrequited love. Most times I just read whatever I want but since this reading is about a specific subject, I kind of freaked out and wrote some new stuff. I haven't decided what I think about it or if I'll use it but here's one of them. And I don't really have an ending for it yet. I'm still working on that.

Great Skate

This is trust
to skate backwards, hands to my shoulders,
a gesture of yes, you are my control,
a mantling, a letting go the periscope,
even though your sixth grade body is taller than my fifth grade,
and I can’t see over you, disco ball blinded,
navigating the under sea swimming of rollerskaters.
This is my first alone in a crowd moment,
for all I know,
you may give the helm to a new boy every Friday.
The intoxication comes from knowing your hands are positioned
to easy slip around my head and lock a kiss
in motion, make a pact of ultimate trust
to close eyes and believe in our course.
But your hands stop brushing my neck somewhere near
the end of Wicked Games or Red, Red Wine.
So my fingers just sweat to hold your hips, the bone jar of your sex
I don’t even ponder now and not for years yet.
But you get it, you swing it back and forth,
feel woman pushing from you like a beak,
your shell stretching in your voice, in the front of your shirt,
which is eye level for me, a mystery
of endless recess discussion.
Maybe is the intimate synchronicity of movement
maybe the aphrodisiac of boiled dogs and nacho cheese,
or the whirring centrifugal tensions of speed
of rounding the same old rink of our parents,
but when my Mom picks me up,
I collapse into the vinyl seat, let the balm of summer vacation
speed through my mouth and my outstretched fingers,
and tell her, “I think I’m in love.”
And then close my eyes. Feel the sunburn of her hands.