Sitting here waiting for the end of this seemingly endless precession of rail cars a sweetness comes over me. Like that gentle breeze we have all read about, passing over our bodies while lifting up our hair. My mind has drifted off, sending me to another place and time in my short life. For only 3 or so seconds I was transported to a time and place where my lonesomeness had not yet been born.
I can still remember most of them, although some are nothing more than a name on a list, a mark of my conquest, never shared with anyone. I do not name names when I kiss and tell. From this list, only some are remembered completely. Their touch, smell and taste, right here, never fading, some how remaining separate from the rest. Remembering the way they moved when I was in them. Some I miss, and some miss me, and still others I would still die for, but there was only that one that really mattered. I sit and stare; lost in the vibration of the train I recall that year, it had started in spring.
The dingers’ rose and traffic rumbled back to its business at hand. Somehow I retained a small piece of that long forgotten happiness. A smile curled the edges of my lips as I headed home. As I drove through the older neighborhoods of town I continued to reach back into that often-sordid bag of my past.
The Springtime of sexual awaking-
I thought about the wonders of seeing the ground pushing bulbs and shrubs towards bloom. I could smell the warmth of the earth, as a spring shower would dust the ground, sending its scent of freshness all around. I could see blue skies, with distant clouds bellowing, puffy white and pure. The days as a teen spent falling in love with young girls, still learning about our sexuality one day at a time still made me hard. Tender moments spent licking one another’s cracks and shafts. Rabbit like raw humping keeping time to the rock n roll anthems of our time. Our nudity so new, the shyness fading to an unbridled freedom to fuck. With each stolen moment, and with each kiss we swore to an unending love all the while holding hands between smokes.
The Summer of love-
The swimming holes filled up quickly with the boys and girls of that summer. Heavy drinking and pot gave the courage to explore many uncharted seas. Relationships came and so did I. Of the many loves that summer one stood out and still owns major real estate of my heart even now. Flirting with one another she made me feel things the others hadn’t, and in that summer of love we educated one another in ways that still make me smile. Lovers learning the ways of their bodies, boys becoming young men as girls stepped towards real maturity, wishing that we would never leave. But unlike Pan, I could not fly.
The Fall from grace-
Watching the sun slowly speed up, heading to its summer equinox, Fall rounds the corner. Leaves burning in piles, while giggling children run hoping the shrinking daylight can be altered. I spent that fall completely in lust with an older girl that introduced me to the naughty side of the tracks. We would lie under the trees and listen to the sounds of migrating birds while leaves fell on us. Many times we did this naked, and if your in Rome. She opened doors to me that defines who I sexuality am today for the most part. Twisted and playful she showed me secrets I treasure yet share freely today. Growing erect and standing firm I schooled long and hard in her ways of love. Quaaludes or mushrooms set the many a mood that fall, and when I woke up I found it wasn’t a dream.
Winters of our discontent-
Ice cold, frozen wastelands stood sentry that year, and I lived in many places staying warm. Allowing strangers to hold my heart in exchange for a few quick fucks, I was on a path to sexual freedom man. I had the world by its tail but didn’t we all in our teenage years? I slept around and got no rest, content to just lick and learn. One day I ran into Mrs. Summer, you remember her, the heartland Baroness. The rush of both being with an old lover that had learned so many new things to pleasure one another with was sweet. The sex was in the top 3, having both quit our jobs in order to stay naked and connected once or twice. If I could hold this one today I know she would say to me, borrowing the Uncle Cracker line; “I polished up your halo, and you dirtied up my soul”. Soul mate number one she was.
The honk of his horn startled me, hitting the gas I looked back and drove away. My 3-second slice of past lovers and friends was through. Another day, another laugh all the way to the bank. I drove towards my empty house not wanting this day to sink in. I fought the varied attempts for that thought, that recollection of the past to hit. But I do remember her and this day so long ago and I miss her in a way that can never be corrected. Death can do that, robbing any way to touch her again, sealing the heart to remember her forever, never being able to detach fully and step back into real life full of real people. I didn’t want to remember but I did.
We had started a life together, and for the very first time I was truly in a committed relationship. I was 17. The world was perfect and over the years our love grew, as did our son. She was a beautiful mother, a great wife and a kind, naughty yet nurturing lover. I loved that I could get away with telling her that she was a Mother, and I fucked her, thus, I was a bad motherfucker. I was also a great Dad and a true husband. I loved her like my very life depended on it. It turned out, one day it did. That day is here again and I know I will have to write away the thoughts once more. I remember so clearly how she worked to unbuckle me as the jeep began to sink. Pushing me towards the shattered windshield I realized she was just sitting there, not struggling to get free. I turned back, and I went for her seatbelt. She looked at me and somehow I knew. I found the steering wheel had impaled her. She said I love you, and the last bubbles left her. The man who had run us off the bridge pulled me out, and even though he saved my life I still hate that he did in to many ways. Anyway, now its tomorrow, I made it one more time baby. You’d be proud of our son.
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