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One day in German, blond arrogant boy, / you engaged me unexpectedly. / Before too long I punched your nose,
One day in German, blond arrogant boy,
you engaged me unexpectedly.
Before too long I punched your nose,
that supposed Hugenot conk that filtered your superior accent.
I didn’t know you actually lived in a house
smaller than ours and that
those glassy enunciations of yours were
that same kind of distancing affect
that I’d used myself, surrounded by
so many kids with dads with cash.
Then, weeks, you laid a willow hand
on my charcoal grey knee
also in German. You have your hand
on my knee, I remarked (in English).
Do you mind? you said,
and I let you leave it there, and
over time, got used to it, and let it
shift higher, nach und nach, each German lesson.
And we thought none of our friends
knew that whenever we sat in a classroom
together, that’s what we did with our hands.
And in the toilets, stood pressed tie to tie,
We could do a little dance, you joked, and
perhaps you couldn’t read my silence.
I’m not sure myself what it meant, but
the far side of summer, we stopped, and never touched again.
You had never taken courage and advanced
beyond my fly. I hadn’t encouraged you to.
The only time our skin touched
was when I smacked your stupid nose.
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