First Date
We snatched kisses from the sunlight
at every space in the canopy,
at every switchback the sequoias
groaned old-man approval: creaking
knees, a cane planted in the deck,
not shooing us away, off his lawn,
but smiling beneficent brown teeth
at the soft lips of youth, the impetuous
hands of youth, the reckless fingers
of youth dashing through the trees.
Mine covered in tiny cuts
so you chewed up some cud
& rubbed it into my wounds.
We gathered acorns, two of each,
three, four, five-notch stars atop,
you said: the ones with three notches
are hard to find, four-leaf clovers
nestled among the ferns,
the currents, the wild cherries
you climbed up to reach,
face puckered with sour.
Never found the pair of fives,
they were off picnicking
on the peak, feeding each other,
off each other.
You pointed at plants like infants,
flowers peeking from your mouth
calendula lingering on your lips
ash & violet on your lids,
first words scrambling
from our mouths like teething.
A million tiny thorns invaded my palm:
we sat, I read you my bad poetry,
you chuckled & plucked each thorn
sucked the strays, cajoled them out
with your secret tongue
set as far deep as your eyes.
We’ve been dreaming of us:
I of you, you of me, but dream-us
drift unmoored, tumble down Mt. Sutro,
which looks like a forest but is only
there to let us pretend the city
might disappear, its streets
might turn to creeks, highways
to raging rivers, high-rises
to whistling redwoods.
When we tumbled onto the street,
went back to smoking cigarettes
& fingering tarot cards
(nature receded from our souls),
the trees no longer held our words
& we could hear each other clearly,
bitterly.
