First Times

I remember that the alcohol
Loosened muscles and inhibitions,
That as you traced your finger
down my spine, I shivered
in the most unmasculine way.
Outside the summer night burned with
The residual memory of
A too-hot sun that made the tar glimmer
And your sweat-covered skin glisten
With the heat of my hurried passion.
I remember I fumbled with the otherness
Of your gentle undulating form.
Hot flesh hiding sudden little crevices
that could hold me folded, sated, loved.
I remember that when the moment came,
It was gone all too soon.
No violin flourish to warn of its passing.
Swept up in a rush of forgotten, unwritten histories
Of simultaneous other releases.
And later I wished that we had taken our time
Stopped along the way to smell, taste, see
The breaking of this shared mythical dream
Not raced to the finish, To these
bright celluloid castles that crumbled at first touch.