NaPoWriMo #30

Monday, April 30, 2018

Affect Theory 

At night I peer into the scrying mirror of my 
phone to learn news of the full moon just 
outside, how the Scorpio moon continues 
to reverberate, and we’ll be feeling love spread
outward like spilt treacle, which is just how
British people say molasses.  Once I was fifteen 
and climbing into the bucket of a Ferris wheel 
with some kid from one of my classes.  I think 
he was a wrestler.  The moon: huge & I caught 
a mania, a spell of longing about it.  The trance, 
I guess, of a teenage poet.  That and the size of 
my new hoop earrings must have scared him, 
and he got off the ride metaphorically shaking
his head.  Right Ferris wheel, wrong boy. Who
knows how I came to be there that night, seated
next to some Mike and his neck.  That was the
fest in Heidelberg, and we were kids from the 
American school, stumbling around all new.
That was the same spring Crissy’s mom picked
up some British teenage boys hitchhiking and 
made them stay the night.  She felt sorry for 
them, how they’d spelled “Heidelburg” on their
sign.  She fed them dinner and turned them 
over to us, who subjected them to Harold &
Maude and feelings in a darkened living room. 
Oh, boy.  All morning I dreamed of a poet boy
who tried to engage me in an elaborate game 
of charades, when I just wanted him to spit it
out already.  Later I would see him rising 
naked from his mother’s bed, and have a 
fit of longing for a back that I had known.  

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