The friend
I kissed
shows up
the next morning.
I had no idea
he knew where I lived.
When I open the door
he falls through
clings to me
like he’s been drowning.
I’m forced to decide
if it’s better
to be honest
and confess our kiss
was only a tasty diversion
from BMX bikes
or see how this feels.
He is
smart and sarcastic,
cute in an oddball way
but likes me so much more
than I like myself.
I take the path
of least resistance.
We date.
He does
such nice things for me
installs speakers
in my Cordoba
and gives me back rubs
until his hands are so tired
he has to ask
if I mind if he stops.
I let him unbutton my oxford
as we kiss in his elderly parents’ den
after their bedtime.
He is good at kissing,
but I block any move
to unhook my bra
my twin elbow goalies
guarding bloated breasts.
He doesn’t even try
my Jordaches.
Maybe because they’re
tight again.