First Time


alex-alferov-alferovmedia-art-portrait-alexrad-acrylic-eighties

one night on the boulevard

across from the Jaguar

I stopped pretending I didn’t see

cars slowing down

circling headlights signaling

giving me the right to choose

taste power

did I think then of father

sitting alone in the kitchen

body collapsing inside his clothes

hands tightly wrapped around his power

I didn’t figure then

that our thirsts were the same

nineteen and all I wanted to do

was master the steps

so I could join the dance

move to a tune

that I somehow

always understood

that night

my first lover

the one with the asian eyes

kept repeating

this can’t be your first time

as he stretched me out

on red

in the middle of an empty room

a butterfly belonging to no one

he couldn’t tell when I came

I made no sound

too drunk with

his advice

just stay young, the rest is easy

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