Thirteen is too young for most things
we agree until we find old photos
of ourselves before drugs, the pill,
even beer, but not before jitterbugging
and looking grown-up and being
at parties with kisses and gropings.
Was it the tight-belted, knee-length
dresses, our hair long and curled,
the boys in jackets, even ties? Dates
scribbled on snapshot backs betrayed
our age. So young, in retrospect;
so old we thought when young.
KNOWING
Too often I stumble into
precipitous relationships:
a lapse of attention,
a stone's dislodged
and
the you-should-have-knowns
crawl out, laughing.
Better the boxing ring,
motives naked, subtleties
left in the locker room,
bells signaling ends of rounds,
the countdown final,
telling me where I stand
or fall.
