the first time

i remember
the first time
at eighteen
in the back seat
of a dodge dart
swinger, army
green, with
rolled and
pleated plastic
seats, the family
car before
baby seats,
and seat belts
or cupholders
or air bags,
or anything.
there may have
been a map in
the glove
compartment.
her name was
marsha, a friend
of my sister
who needed a ride
home. she was
lean and tall,
older than me
by several years,
with long straight
hair. i remember
her lighting
her cigarette
as i drove,
smiling at me,
moving to the
center to put her
hand on my knee,
then telling me to
pull over somewhere
dark. i never
saw her again,
or talked to her
again, or ever
heard anyone
even mention
her name in
passing. in some
ways it was like
she never existed
except for those
quick five minutes
on that hot summer
night, when we
made anything
but love
in the back seat
of that car.