He was my first,
(Well sort of, there was a technicality.)
And living as we did on neighboring islands in a sea of corn and bean fields,
We found a tractor path.
It was summer and there was no light except the moon
And millions of stars.
We were awkward - powered by his hormones, my love, and millions of stars.
And afterward, silently, we walked hand in hand down the path surrounded by corn just tasseling
Not knowing what the appropriate thing to say might be.
Our love grew as fast as the corn that summer.
And we became less awkward,
And we made up things to say,
And the ears showed golden silk,
And there were always millions of stars, enough to make us drunk with the sky.
The leaves turned to brown paper that rattled in the breeze,
The corn to gold,
And still the stars shown in my eyes, keeping me from seeing.
I went away to school. There were too many lights to see the stars and he found out one girls was pretty much as good as an other.
Our last conversation on the phone, I told him a white lie.
And he said, "You know, that would have ruined my life."
I couldn't even cry.
But now I cry once a year in late May when I pick a wildflower and toss it into a readied field
Full of golden potentialities.
copyright, 2011
Fay Campbell
bittersweet.
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