'58 mommandadillac

necking in the backs
of infinite cars, spit-shined hot-rods
that gleam
cream-piss-yellow in the american moonlight,
soaked
in Rock 'n Roll that knows no secrets,

only Reverberated
'lectric guitars, thick like a woman's parting
split
by two fingers that cut, snapping
a radio dial silent,

closed,

and now the thickest sound
is the panting, confused, first time,
of a girl who you could only make
with clumsy upward hands pushing
squeezing breasts away, faces crossed,

hope you did it right,

unhooked her bra real cool,
snap of the fingers;
truth hits, a snapped bra-strap
sending her
into

a
cavernous

'oh,'

it's really gonna happen,

why didn't she read the cues
her mother aired out peeling carrots,
little sideways smile talking about Daddy's Hudson
but never what could be reached upward
and into,

so all she can do
is what's right, play society's virgin
so he can be the big big man
who's done this before,

honest,

like the big big men who's leather jackets
were soft like the purple-mushed insides
of the virgins they stole, the thousands,
roaring multitudes who woke up with grey eyes,
dry tongues and sore hearts,

pomade-softened men
whose jaws rang long and hard,
who hooked in a kiss
and took it from there

but he'll never be one of them
until he closes his eyes and convinces himself
he was born
with that purple-pussied past
that ate up his dreams,

instead he'll convince himself
that he's convinced her
that he's as good 'n experienced
as he believes he's been told
she'll expect him to be,

and she'll convince herself
that he wants her good 'n ready
as her girlfriends weren't either
but nobody knew otherwise;

he's inside:

she bites her lip and doesn't cry out
when he breaks the real
world through her flesh,
plants it there,

so even if she gets pregnant
by a different man, years past,

it will all be the same,
scared virgins
pushing past each other, ready
to return the borrowed automobile,
wordless,
to the next sea of borrowers.