touch

it's funny how little things can affect you
like smooth fingers running through your hair
or a hand gripping your shoulder
or a clumsy kiss on the stairs

before i know it, ronnie's on my mind
more often than i like
cigarettes burning holes in my concentration
but it's not really him, anyway,
it's just
the kiss

"i have never wanted to kiss you"

we are bound from
nothing but the closeness
my stomach feels against his
i try to tell john the truth of my feelings for him
i am so direct i surprise myself into doubt
wondering if my words are really my heart
they sound too good to be

really, every moment i am touched
i deliberately memorize:

the way my lips graze ryan's ear

as we hug for the first time

jeff's hands tentatively rubbing
my shoulders, quickly letting go

wondering how our bodies contain
such immense talent when i embrace alice

kathleen's maternal touch that draws
her complaint and makes her responsible

holding greg's hand, knowing his fingers
discovered neil's body but that they won't love him

douglass anne wants me to be physically closer to her
i am afraid to let her
because i see myself and i
sense familiar thoughts of possession and jealousy
i know the power of even the most foreign hands, and necks, and shoulders
i know what sway touches, kisses, and embraces have over me

and i don't want that power over her or any girl

but if i'm going to deny her
then i have to at least understand myself
and not want to ask it of john or neil or jeff or greg or ronnie
or anyone