Joelene

Soapy, suddy waters.

Eric and I’s hands

were buried underneath.

Let me tell you where all the

shenanigans and hanky-panky

officially started.

Right here, when I was cleaning

the big dutch pot that Mama

did bake the pudding in.

I wondered why they’d call it

Dutch pot. Was it made by people

who spoke Dutch?

And speaking about languages,

Mamaw said Eric could speak

two languages:

English and Spanish.

I’d have loved to hear him speak

a sentence longer than ‘como estas?’

And ‘muy bien.’

And ‘gracias.’

The girls at the high school I go to

think it’s hot when boys can speak

different languages.

I think it’s hot when ‘men’ can speak

different languages.

There’s a Big and Long difference

between the two.

You’d have to have a painfully

mature brain

to get the pun.

And when it came to Eric,

I needed not look to know.

That there is a BIG

and LONG difference.

Then our hands brushed

underneath the cold waters.

We both were reaching for

the bent fork with aging flower

patterns on the handle.

Eric chuckled, and I smiled shyly.

“Almost mistook your fingers

for the sponge,” he said.

And when my mouth gaped

with no words coming out,

he added:

“Your hands are soft.”

And I felt like...the compliment,

like the smile,

was a secret.

So I glanced back

at my parents.

Still watching “The Sound of Music”

on our old box Tv.

Eric followed my eyes.

Then he laughed again.

“Those old movies

are for old folks, yeah?”

That was what

he asked.

And I answered:

“Yeah. A bit lame.”

He grinned. Then all of a sudden

he was leaning over.

Into my ear.

“Meet me in the hallway

later tonight. I’ll let you see

a real movie.”