Poem - A caged memory

A caged memory

I was eighteen

And she

Maybe a year younger

I don’t remember exactly

But she was thin

Short, cropped blonde

With no tits

But the rest of her was gold

She was a tomboy

Which I like

Yet without a name

For this recounting

Though I still feel her body against mine

Underneath the water

In the river

The summer of our lives

Or some such cliché

But she was real and sexy

And slightly bowed

To my confidence

Which I no doubt faked

Which was what allowed

My hand to roam down her flat stomach

Into her bikini

Without a fraction of protest

As I hugged her from behind

Her ass in my groin

Her body tight

In my arms

And we kept each other warm

In the cool flowing water

Despite the sun

And the other teenagers

That played and swam and laughed

And I’m thankful for rivers

In particular their color

As no one could see

What was going on

And I was probably in some kind of heaven

Because I can remember that one moment

All these years later

With considerable clarity.

I can still feel her

Though don't recall her name

Or what happened to her

As I’m assuming she moved away

Soon afterwards.

And maybe you’ve got one of those memories too

The one that got away

Sampled

Savored

But not conquered

Lost along the way

To time

And the cellar of recollection

That is yours

And not theirs

And maybe you don’t want to know what happened to them

As that’s not the point

As they would be older too

And real

And less appealing.

We’re more than happy to be standing here

Looking back

When all things were better

As it’s our memory

And no one else’s

And that’s the best of us

And the best of them.

To this day, she will never know

That she’s never been better.

A true story

Rose colored

(Update: This post was published in 2012. The poem was then printed in my first Poetry Collection, Caged Without Walls (2013).

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