I remember when I first learned what a guy was.
(Verb: to mock your descriptions of ******* and ***)
“Will you have it when you’re older?”
“Probably.”
“EWWW”
“I think you’re going to want it more than me a few years from now”
your flunkies mock me most of all for that last response.
(Verb: to redefine humiliations as appreciation)
I’m told they secretly want attention.
Why don’t they say these things to male friends who want attention?

I remember when I first learned what gay was,
a battery with equally polarized ends.
First it means happy,
and Ms. Coyne looks bewildered when I exclaim how gay I am that day.
Then it means unnatural,
opposite the image of the perfect prince and princess
intrusive with its inherent sensuality.
Would anyone seek to break the tension between men and women,
fenced by mockery?
Women are safer.

I remember when I first learned what you were,
(Noun: shame)
sitting there with your long hair, perfect skin, ethereal face
I try to glimpse you in the bathroom as you change
You tolerate my cuddles and appreciation.
I want reciprocity more than anything.

I remember when I first learned what a spark was
kissing my best friend for… practice?
that’s too cliche. What was it?
Comfort, I suppose. Not feeling left out. Having a good first memory, tainting it positively forever.
It’s cute and comfortable. A revelation, like the first time I hugged a friend (new capacities for love!) I wish I could kiss all my friends to express that trusting affection, without the inherent romance. Or maybe with a bit of it, plausibly deniable.
But there’s a hint of sparkiness
behind my lips, down in my chest
(Adjective: willing)
I never really felt it again,
though that first kiss with Alex was a close replica.

My forehead against yours, your breath on my lips
it was death enough to have you touch my hand
(I remember learning what gay was)
It seems like it’d spark to kiss you
and if it didn’t, well, I’d still learn something.