She smelled like exotic fruit
freshly peeled, pungent
as she leaned over our adoring faces
buttons of her shirt open
almost all the way
we envied every curve suggested
and waited for hand me downs
wishing we could paint on
layers of her skin
we listened in on those late night calls
from boys who, after taking home
softer girls
would kiss her the next day
behind the skating rink
unlike those boys we loved
everything about her and wanted
it to be our lips they touched
juices dripping

we wanted the same sour taste