disliking
by A.B.B.
disliking
You didn't like me.
I didn't like you.
That's not how it started. I saw you at a Single Parents' picnic with your brow arched. That sharp curve led me to your freckled face: more freckles, I asked myself? When you said hello, I heard a slight lisp. That sealed my interest.
I should have known it wouldn't work by what you brought to the picnic — oversweet tuna on damp white bread. But that evening we got together anyway and were in bed fast.
Fucking, you talked about some other guy you didn't like, how he fucked longer and harder and better. I picked up speed a bit as you talked: I thought you'd like that. You frowned. But you kept on.
After resting you talked about your kids; I talked about mine. What gave me great pause was how you'd almost gone mad after having your second kid. At first your story sounded like postpartum depression, but then you told how your husband had left you and you almost hadn't returned to earth. I guess the kids were lucky to have survived, thanks to your parents' help.
We met often, never much more than fucking.
What finally ended it was Reagan. During a long session one afternoon — and where were the kids? — you were talking about The President, how important it was for you to honor him. "I must stand with him for the Star-Spangled Banner, hand over my heart." Reagan. I kept plowing and you grabbed my back.
When we stopped, you got up ahead of me, and got dressed: "Pull them down," you said, meaning your underpants. You pulled up your skirt and shook your ass. I moved into you again, and I started to move, gently. Then you pushed back harder and began to complain again.
***
Years later I saw you at a Storytelling Festival with a large round man: you both looked very happy, and you seemed to barely recognize me when I said hello.
Retired children's librarian A.B.B. received an MA in Creative Writing from Boston University studying with poet Anne Sexton and classicist Donald Carne-Ross. He is a Pushcart nominee and has published three books of poetry and a hybrid fictionalized memoir, IN THE PACE OF THE PATH, UnCollected Press, 2023. A.B.B. has a chapbook, because lack, forthcoming from back room poetry in June 2024, https://backroompoetry.co.uk. Recent awards include: Longlist, The Bedford Competition (2023); Winner, Saw Palm Poetry Contest (2022). Recent/upcoming writing and photo work include: EcoTheo Review, Thanatos, The Hyacinth Review, DarkWinter, Feral, Porridge Magazine, and Mercurius. A.B.B. is also a published/exhibited photographer and runs a fine press/publisher with artist/printer Robert Woods, Lines & Faces: linesandfaces.com.
Image by Engin Akyurt from Pixabay.
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