I had to smile even though i felt suddenly heavy, sad and stupid.

It was a clear spelling out, like steel cuts thru a fruit.

Languishing there, his head unpropped, he said, "You know,
I could have any girl at school." As he spoke he looked down
and away, his gorgious face blank and indifferent, as if I
were wasting his time or a child needing an obvious truth
taught quickly.

*god, *I thought*, I can't believe he said that!! damn!* a sudden understanding.

He is so male, all chase and careless passion,
an acomplished apostle of gods free love in the great
war between the wills and the won'ts.

He pulls me down to him as if kisses and exchanging gentle
grips will unseat reason or trite endearments and sensual
riot sway me, like liquor clear and sweet, to some brainless act.

He thinks he can create me to order, the insatiate bride,
with patchwork logic, worthless pladges of love and
the safe cracker's trembling touch.

but he can't now and never will. I've seen myself in his eyes,
a wet diagional trophy, and it's cold encouragement.

"I'm feeling kind of queezy, maybe you better go", I say..
I sit up, put hands on my middle and wrinkle my nose..
"oh!", he says, surprised and slightly disappointed..