How the four of us lost it
by Emalisa Rose
Betty was first; it was under
the boardwalk, down at the
Rock, only the gulls were
around. She told us it hurt,
but wore a big badge the
next day, blabbing to all on
the bleacher seats, watching
her "Tony" play B.Ball. Then
came Carlotta; it happened
with Gina, but fifteen months
later, she had Mario's baby. Lisa
loved Marty. Hers was another
popped cherry, down at the
shoreline, next to the southern
arcade. He told her he'd love
her till doomsday. But Marty
jumped over the cliffside, strung
out on speed. Lisa went on; she
had three abortions.
I was the last of the virginal four.
It hadn't intrigued me that much.
I was happy to dabble in foreplay
and three play. I married Peter;
my first and my last. The four of
us fab, in our own special way.
* * * * *
When not writing poetry, Emalisa Rose enjoys crafting with macrame and doll making. She volunteers in animal rescue and knits blankets for shelter cats. She lives by a beach town, which provides much of the inspiration for her art. Her work has appeared in Cholla Needles, Rat's Ass Review, Open Arts Forum and other journals.