parts

behind the couch as our parents tried to melt the roach clip,
i met you twice a week after school
and we fingerpainted.
you showed me yours, i showed you mine and we noted
all of their similarities
and unique properties.

there was a knot in the tree behind your house,
and you laughed
when i said it looked like a butt.
i spent weeks in my room after the shame
and promised i would
never touch it again.

i stole a kiss from you when we ran away from home,
lost in the row of pines
behind our school.
it was the first time i realized that i could see better,
and with more clarity
up close and honest.

...

sometimes it's better not to share or think of those times,
like when i compared it to the boys'
and i watched their faces contort.
i often wonder why we never met up again after puberty
to compare
though i wanted to.