Waiting at a Stoplight on Saturday Morning
by Jennie Linthorst
I know I’m not supposed to stare,
the shame of it burns like a heat rash yet,
I’m drawn to the shine of his red pick-up truck,
surfboards in back, the way his hand
strokes her hair, a girl nuzzled next to him.
I imagine their spontaneity of morning–
how he must wake her with his hands,
his mouth, making love as dawn
creeps through each slat in the blinds,
and what must be a slow drive to the beach.
Like a tigress in heat, pulled to the strongest male,
I am lured to the mountain of his masculinity,
the meat on his bones. Remembering my first kiss
pressed against wet bark, the almosts and could
have beens over pitchers of beer and Camel Lights,
all those mornings after I said yes instead of no.
* * * * *
Jennie Linthorst is published in Foliate Oak, Forge, Kaleidoscope, Literary Mama, Mothers Always Write, Sanskrit, and The Art of Autism. Her two books of poems, Silver Girl (2013), and Autism Disrupted: A Mother's Journey of Hope (2011), were published by Cardinal House. Jennie is certified in poetry therapy from the National Federation of Biblio/Poetry Therapy. www.lifespeakspoetrytherapy.com.