My First Time

my first time by Jude Kyrie She was not a fresh faced honey girl from my class. Nor a woman who took money to rid college boys of their virginity. It did not happen fumbling in the back of a car. Or lay in the grass of a meadow under a moonlit sky. It was in her small walk up flat up three flights of dimly lit stairs. I can still feel my legs weaken in anticipation of the unknown. Inside the untidy table had a full ashtray a half bottle of red wine. A Picasso reproduction Gargoyled from the wall. She was full of experiences. That I could only imagine. She pulls a strip of condoms from her night table. The bedroom window open wide the summer breeze whispered Hush Hush. It’s your time It’s your time. She took me softly. Gently almost like a dream. I cried out as my boyhood left me draining into her in its irrecoverable loss. Outside the breeze had turned to wind Blowing my uncertainty and doubts far Into the night. She was my teacher and I her avid student. Later the door closed as I left her. Her memory now indelibly burned onto my soul