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Sara With No H

Of all the dumb things I’ll do today,
here are two:
One—
Admit that I can’t remember the last name
of the first girl I put my fingers inside.
Two—
Decide to write a poem about it.
Sara was a Sara with no H, I remember
this much, okay?
She was small and blonde,
what would become
a trend for me
my type, so they say.
Had a stud through her tongue
that she’d let peek out between pursed
lips during writing workshop.
It would drive my friend Lauren crazy,
in a bad way, though.
Not me.
Sara won my heart for all of 84 hours—
that’s all it would take it to get her out
of my system, and me out of hers—
after I watched from the steps outside
100 Beacon
as she stepped in front of a red Ford
so eager to end her life right then and there,
it was,
that I closed my eyes tight.
But Sara with no H pointed to the Walk sign in white
that had sent her
the all-clear
and then turned back to Family Ford
and pegged them the bird.
Sara was a poet in a fiction writing workshop.
For this reason alone, most of us hated her.
Sure,
most of us had dabbled
in some sort of poetry
writing in the past.
Not me, though.
This is my first.
As though you couldn’t tell.
This was back in ’92 or ’93.
My friend Lauren would remember this
as my “bad times.”
So imagine my surprise
Seventeen years later
and after having discovered Crossfit,
which looked nothing like
punk-rock fitness
to me if I’ve ever seen it
Sara and I would share another
brief,
awkward,
but totally
amusing
encounter.
Let the fucking record
show—
she recognized me.
(I was sort of
stressing over
how I’d work the word
Fuck
into this post.)
When she said,
“Angela,
do you know who
I am?”
I had to smile, say
“Sorry,”
and I squeezed my water
bottle so hard
that I felt wetness seep
between my shoelaces,
the mesh of my
Crossfit shoes.
I hate moments like
these so much.
“I’m Sara,” she said.
And then it all came back
because people’s faces,
bodies,
hair styles
may change, but their eyes
never do.
“From Emerson?”
she said.
I said,
“With no H.”
And she said,
“Oh, you remember
well, then.”
And I smiled again,
remembering,
actually,
how almost every woman’s
pussy felt like hers
for a while after.
Can’t say when it
changed,
or stopped,
but it did.
Like this.

5 responses to “Sara With No H”

  1. Avatar Kate says:

    The No. 1 dumb thing makes me feel better about those boys whose last names I can't remember. I've always thought the feelings memories give us are far more important than the concrete details anyway.

  2. Mr_Poopoopachu Mr_Poopoopachu says:

    Totally agree with Owen…Angela, you went for it – and nailed it. And of all the dumb things I'll {say} today, here are two:
    ONE –
    Admit that I CAN remember the last name of the first girl I put my fingers inside. (How youuuu doin'? http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/profile.php?i
    TWO –
    When a woman {says} "the first girl I put my fingers inside" and/or "remembering, actually, how almost every woman's pussy felt like hers" my pants get tight. (Thank you for that.)

  3. Mr_Poopoopachu Mr_Poopoopachu says:

    Totally agree with Owen…Angela, you went for it – and nailed it. And of all the dumb things I'll {say} today, here are two:
    ONE –
    Admit that I CAN remember the last name of the first girl I put my fingers inside. (How youuuu doin'? http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/profile.php?i
    TWO –
    When a woman {says} "the first girl I put my fingers inside" and/or "remembering, actually, how almost every woman's pussy felt like hers" my pants get tight. (Thank you for that.)

  4. Avatar angela says:

    Thanks, Owen!

  5. […] With No H.” Orig. Pub. Date: 6/1/2010. Vol I, Issue 10 ~ Pabulum & Poetry ~ 30POV.com; All rights belong to the original […]

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angelatav About angelatav

On the eve of her 30th birthday, Angela Tavares found black metal, and life has been awesomely grim ever since. When she’s not walking the forests on cold winter nights or crafting inverted crosses with twigs and twine, she’s writing a novel, like everyone else you know. On an unrelated note, she talks for every animal she meets, a habit she’s finding hard to quit, and loves Greek yogurt.

Read more by this author on 30POV .


Issues

December 2010
Paradox
November 2010
On My Honor
October 2010
Witch Hunt
September 2010
If, Then.
May 2010
Small Crimes
April 2010
Intoxication
February 2010
"It's Complicated"
January 2010
Awakenings