As we lay spent, naked, and intermingled, he confessed.
“For years, I never had a girl friend. And, I had housemates. And, on Friday and Saturday nights, the walls would almost cave in with all their fucking. And, I would be sitting in my room alone. It’s nice to have somebody to love. Especially, someone like –” he garbles his last word as he lightly sucks my hip.
It sounded like he said “Cain,” but I know he said “you.”
In 1942, under the watch of ole red, white, and blue,
a boy met a girl.
He told her he was leaving and would marry her when he returned.
She was home to him.
In the back of the movie theater with “Bambi” on the screen,
she nods off, to “Love is a Song,” yes.
She is not quite seventeen.
He leaves her with a ring and all of his best intentions.
He fights bravely in a
Battle between winter and the beautiful.
She writes him every day.
He comes home to her.
And, as the chords of the wedding march begin,
and she moves toward him,
He remembers love.
veehaunanifitzhugh 