Presents From Jim Poem by Shirley Anne Alexander

Nineteen sixty-nine. The autumn fair was in Athens.

I was sixteen. You had finished your senior year.

You threw well aimed darts, and loaded my arms

with cheap stuffed toys; soft treasures for my bed.



Arms and objections occupied, I leaned tight

while you held me from behind, whispering

unfamiliar syllables into my warming ear.

I remember your hands, and how I wanted



the force of them firm around my breasts;

fingertips exploring chilled hard nipples.

Old enough to want, too young to recognize

the scent you were leaving on my expectations.



You stood silhouetted against carnival lights;

Ferris wheel colors haloing your dark hair.

I grabbed my instamatic; snapped a hunk of you

as you left for California. And I am still here.


(©2008)