A Lecher Disputes Love
Lance T. Young
My first love/ Tina Schubert/ wearing torn blue jeans/ in the back seat of my father's plymouth/ green vinyl sticking to my skin/ not like the couch where her father caught us/ on the sofa/ me/ in boxers/ her/ nude/ and him just standing there like a dream/ later she told me it excited her/ my friend told us to use a pillow/ "it works," he said/ "we don't want to procreate," I told him, "just fuck"/ and her father just standing in the dark room/ perhaps feeling violated himself/ sex is for the continuation of the species/ and all the bible verses they've thrown at me/ Hedonist/ yes/ "did you do it just to make me?" I ask my parents/ did Adam smile when he was finished getting "to know" Eve?/ "do you love me?" she asked/ always asking/ me buying flowers so I could have sex with her and not feel guilty/ guilt from religion/ from some god who tells me not to do what feels good/ and her standing in a flannel nightgown figuring out on a calendar when it was safe to copulate/ based on lunar cycles/ and estrogen/ "no, I don't love you" I said/ and her crying/ my first love/ in torn blue jeans/ piece of tanned thigh teasing me/ it's too much trouble to love/ what with/ responsibility/ and religion/ and obligation/ signing her notes "love Tina" and/ putting her hands in my pockets so I can't think straight/ I never wanted any of that/ that excess of moral responsibility that tries to make me become attached to her in spite of reason/ in spite of logic/ in spite/ almost telling her I love her afterwards because I've seen it in the movies/ walking home from her apartment/ sun not even up/ cottonwood leaves rattling from the summer breeze/ running/ before I know why/ running home/ to shower/ to clean myself of this disease./
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