A Gesture

Kim turned 13 a month before I did.

We got our periods that year,

her boobs were bigger than mine.

She smelled of Love’s Fresh Lemon.

We smoked Belvedere cigarettes

down by the creek behind our school.

I held her sheepskin mittens

as she lit my cigarette with hers.

We laughed about our slutty art teacher

with her teased up hair and pants so tight

they showed her camel toe.

Kim’s mother forbade her to hang out with me,

told me to my face when I’d knocked and asked why?

Because you are a bad influence on her.

So we walked part way home together,

our orange nylon backpacks heavy with books,

then she’d go on ahead to avoid getting grounded.

On Saturdays we’d meet behind the convenience store,

me with my forged note for cigarettes,

her with her dollar.

We smoked in the stairwell of the underground parking.

Once she let me kiss her on the mouth

with the snow falling all around.