can I ask you a question,
your new love
says to you, while stroking
a brush against her hair,
counting to herself,
staring into the dresser mirror.
sure, you say. but nothing
too hard, no math questions,
or chemistry. twenty one,
she says, her hand
moving the brush with
long even strokes.
twenty two, she whispers.
i'm ready, you tell her,
tightening up, getting nervous
as to what she might ask.
do I love her, are we
in a relationship now,
what's next for us?
should I bring some clothes over?
you cringe and put another
pillow behind your head.
twenty seven she says.
then turns around. is there
a good place to get a pizza
around here, i'm starving.
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