Banana Pine

Late & alone,
we played gin rummy,
Then strip poker.
Two ashtrays and two wax-paper cups,
half-full of half-finished soda
and half-used cigarettes.

Two boys and two girls: we shuffled
And dealt, shuffled and dealt,
until all clothes were crumpled
beneath our feet. Skinny-dipped, a trial by fire,
Wanderings: deep end, shallow end,
Dive in, take a dip.

I pressed against her awkwardly, pubescently,
Learning the frightening taste of tongues
And stale cigarettes.

Quickly, we returned to the picnic table,
With ripe yellow banana pine, knotted
And gnarled, but lacquered smooth,
An innocent mistake, I thought.

Every old bone recalls the chlorine residue,
The creaks and twitches of fallen trees
And other memories left behind.