Mystery Lost

Remember, girls?

Back then, when all we wanted
was something sweet
something special, the perfect
dress for our first time.

Remember when sex
was something we needed
in desperation after burying
our necks into the boys' necks
during slow songs?

Remember, girls?

The electricity of fingers touching
breath over a phone line
innuendo, eyes downcast
rubbing together, all tongues
and hands and small moans.

Then came boy number two, three, seven…

There was the night we first faked it
the night we lay there thinking of other things
that time we memorized a patterned ceiling
magic lost.

Remember, girls?

Then came the first
battery operated plastic thing
the first tentative vibration
and then, magic again.

Then a boy tied your hands to
your knees
on your back…

Then the ice down your spine
the candle held high over you
the knife that slid
under your panties and sliced them away.

More shopping.
Blindfolds, eggs
leather, cat o nine
jellies and movies
clamps, beads
maybe a swing.

Will there be a night
when you lie in your bed and think of
your nose pressed into a boy's neck
and look over at your box of toys
and wonder
where to find the magic again;
wonder
if you know all the secrets now.

You orgasm on command.
You have been a nurse, firewoman,
devil, catholic schoolgirl.
You have been tied, clamped, invaded,
tortured, cinched, spanked,
suspended, twisted, corseted.

It's mystery you've lost.
You've read the books
perfected technique;
you know every inch of man or woman
or both.

But remember back then
when, under his warm, starched white
button-down dress shirt
behind the tie where your hand crept
during the slow dance
when you couldn't imagine the consequences
of opening a button and sliding inside.

Remember, girls?