The Fiddleback

poem by Rachel B. Glaser

she has the apartment to herself
we debate if we should watch a movie
knowing movie means hooking up
AR leans for movie
AR—only semi-attractive to me
but still attractive
still wonder what AR looks like without her sweatshirt
and matching sweatpants
we scroll Netflix but nothing hooks me
every movie looks the same
AR is charming on the computer
and shows me her online journal folder
my name appears 28 times
I journal on paper (obviously, dear reader)
so cannot help but judge her
AR twirls
we eat
we listen to the Beach Boys struggle in the studio
I don’t think we can kiss unless we pick a movie
but AR shows me how incorrect my assumptions are
AR squirms
she kisses well
almost like TK (pre-semester abroad)
or like SN (that one time)
always after seeing a girl’s breasts, feel a sort of relief
to have found out the secret of what kind of nipples she’s hiding
these, brownish (like GB’s) largish
the Beach Boys studio recordings are filled with
unbearable tension
and disappointment
often the track stops and the main guy has to
explain to the others
how he wants it to sound
this too happens with AR
but we find our way through
her orgasm is breathy (not at all like TK’s!)
and I find that empty apartment and all
I can’t fully let loose
I start journaling in my head at moments
like Beach Boys studio comparison—I think that at the time
and instead of saying it
see myself in the future
writing in these waiting pages

——–
Rachel B. Glaser