First Fruits

The summer before my first car
Thinking myself grown
I walked Lori
Under the fingernail moon
Talking the generalities of life
Trying out my new-found language
Experimenting with its power

Contemplating how to get her
Into the deepest shades of night.

I never was successful.
Not with Lori.

But every rocket
Needs a launching pad
And she was mine.

I gave Lori my heart
Mistaking it for another
Organ.

While vacationing
With my family
I bought her a
Heart-shaped necklace
As testament to my affection
(And adolescent horniness).

Running to her house
As soon as we made it home
I was shocked
Stunned
(Castrated)
To discover
Lori had
Moved.

Without a word of
Farewell
Or forwarding address.

Throwing the necklace in my drawer
It lay beneath my socks
The way her memory
Lay beneath my heart.

I finally threw the necklace away...
A kind of
First fruits
Of things
Lost
When I learned
Love
Is less about what is gained
Than it is
About things
Bundled
In the tangle
Of sock drawers.