And the Walls Ate into His Brain
Your tongue
Imagined against
Mine in February
She wrote terrible
17-year-old girl poetry
Lots of rainbows
Most of the time
I couldn’t remember
How to spell
My middle name
Bleach blonde ankles
Deer in the headlights
I wanted to kiss her
But I couldn’t
So I walked home
That terrible night
Convinced
That I was broken
But had I known then
What I know now
I would have leaned
Into that kiss
And spared myself
The embarrassment
Of joining that elite group
Of teenage headcases
Who botched
Their first kiss too
And wasted the best years
Of their lives
Swinging for the fences
And getting laughed
Off of the field
Of that illusory landscape
Of our misspent youth
David Burdett
1/8/2024
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