June 2009

I’d fallen in love with the smooth part of her midriff

between her belly button and the waistband of her shorts;

her bare shoulders and muscular back,
tan and spotted with acne scars.

One evening she stood in the threshold of the bathroom,

both arms extended to block my way. My eyes darted

from midriff to shoulder to lips.

I only wanted her to love me,

but I looked in her eyes and said,

“I only want to brush my teeth.”