All of a sudden I recalled my first crush, Jun
the Swan, who made my boyish heart skip a beat
every Thursday morning—no other love was as pure
once I had savoured the scent of a body.
More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com
Tag: first love
Always a breed of life
The day I died would be the first day of my life.
After all, a man’s life never truly begins
until he reaches the climax of his story,
or so the scriptures say.
I guess mine begins with a smell, and believe me,
enuresis is no laughing matter, at least not when you are twelve
and have to survive three weeks at a scout camp
while your first crush lives in the next tent.
If memory serves, it was also around that time
that I started taking liberties with certain parts
of my body. But it doesn’t really matter,
because one day you will bury this skeleton
of feeble memories with me.
The day I died would be the first day of my life
as you know it.
The bouquet I seek
I am attracted to redheads with freckles, perhaps because the very first woman I noticed,
signalling that I had finally reached my awkward age, was one. Neither beautiful nor ugly,
she was the epitome of perfection, and all I wished for was to push her on a garden swing.
Decades later, I know it was bizarre to wait for a nod to follow her long silk nightdress.
If only she knew I seek a home—not a hotel room, now and then—where the bouquet
on the table is a humble cauliflower.
hidden pilcrow 