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My Story (not really a poem)
by Britt Zimmerman I had my first kiss when I was fourteen. His name was Mike, I really dont remember the circumstances leading up to this moment, just a few sketchy details here and there. I remember me and my best friend, an hour long bus ride to the water park, and somehow knowing that this would be the day. THE DAY: The one every adolescent girl dreams of...practices in the mirror for.
I wore my favorite swimsuit, a one piece with the stomach cut out to show off my tiny little girl frame. It was pink and white striped on top, blue and white on the bottom. Yeah, I looked good, as good as an awkward fourteen year old could with mosquito bites for breasts. I will say I had legs that went straight up to heaven , smooth and tan and quite the neon sign for horny little boys. Legs though, really werent what horny teenage boys were looking at. Its a proven fact that boys are into breasts of which I had none, and boys were into blondes of which I wasnt one. So, aside from the fact that I was as awkward as they come and painfully shy... I knew that I was gonna get kissed that day if it killed me.
[Insert Beach Boys song here: (any one of them will do).] So there he was my knight in shining armor, my defining moment, my dénouement: My sixteen year old savior, the one that would lead me to the land of the experienced; the land of (duhn duhn duh!) the FRENCH KISSED. He was the epitome of gorgeous: all over tan, muscles, bright blue eyes and spiky blonde hair. Oh yeah and soaking wet from diving in and out of the water-park waves.
I watched him through my sunglasses for quite some time. Him and his boys running wild, getting dirty looks from mothers and teenage girls that were far too mature to have to deal with his inability to control himself.
...And then, he was there in front of me, bright white teeth smiling down at me. I am not really sure how it happened, whether we flirted, or what we talked about, but we spent the day together. Swimming, running, laughing, just having a great time. And then I had to leave... I just remember having to get back on the bus and the feeling of desperation, knowing that this was it... I was either getting kissed now or my life would cease to exist!
(Insert song: this magic moment, so different and so...) In a matter of seconds I had transformed, from the innocent Americas Sweetheart Mary Pickford into Marilyn Monroe in Some Like it Hot! And he was my Bogart, my... James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause. He looked into my eyes and smiled, pulled me close, our still damp bodies without time or space. His hand on my cheek, we leaned in and....
*needle scratching record*
Ok so maybe that wasnt exactly how it went... Maybe it was more along the lines of him playing tonsil hockey while I, completely stiff and wide eyed, missed the whole savor the moment thing and went straight into HOLY SHIT HES KISSING ME! mode.
Its funny really looking back through the video in your mind, capturing blurbs of faces that come in and out of your life. This is a story... a mind video of my life; or at least the defining moments in it. This is a story of me and my friends. A story, of the people that influenced me in ways that can make one hold on to certain moments in their past, while others go flying out the window at 90 miles per hour. 02/05/2003 Author's Note: A story I am currently working on... what do you think???
Posted on 02/06/2003
Copyright © 2024 Britt Zimmerman
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Vimal Rony on 02/07/03 at 06:22 AM very well written |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 11/18/03 at 05:21 PM I think this is excellent! Very down to Earth, honest, well told. I know who to go to now if I ever need a biographer. :o) |
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