I tagged Barbara
because she is obsessed with
protecting wild herds.
Not sure why I included the descriptor
prom date on my post
but Donny replied,
You are the best Jenn.
You always have been.
Storm of interpretations commence:
maybe he regrets
maybe he wished
maybe he still…
What did he mean– the best?
Childhood memory interjects:
listening to whispers sitting on grandpop’s lap
a shy twirling of hair
maybe I really am the most beautiful girl.
The interpretation shifts:
the compliment becomes patronizing
like the hunk-of-an-orderly who playfully flirts
with the elderly client whose shirt says
90 is the new 50.
She brushes her blue-white hair
in case he’s the one
to wheel her to dinner.
You are the best.
You always were.
I search.
I wonder.
I thought there was a wife?
Barbara’s first husband died young.
Barbara’s second husband died wealthy.
I don’t imagine a third for Barbara
but what do I know.
What I want to reply to Donny:
The best? You never even fucked me!
Skipping into future tripping:
he winds up in my bed
knees pulled toward his chest
and legs wide
our search words mention
rimming and edging and Jesus
so close what the fuck
and perhaps begging
but don’t you dare
not yet not yet.
Barbara says, Donny has good taste
but god, now I just want to watch
his eyes roll back in his head when
he can’t hold back any more.
