The adolescent years caught us off guard.
Fighting the travesties of acne and war
in a world we did not really know,
we marched through youth as soldiers of mercy
compelled by the romanticism of mass dissent …
feeling much, with little certainty.
If knowledge vanquished gullibility,
then surely inexperience bred expectation;
and faith cradled us in naked dreams
of prodigious sexual love yet bereft
of both lust and rationality.
I remember how you once told me that
the sexiest word in the French language
has to be “pamplemousse”.
You broke up in laughter and exclaimed:
“It means grapefruit. Can you believe that?
G-R-A-P-E-F-R-U-I-T!”
I laughed because your amusement was contagious.
Looking at your wild eyes and farm-girl smile,
I fell captive to your callow charm and
soon we were deep in each other’s arms,
giggling hysterically.
We awoke from our laughter gazing at
one another in momentary sobriety.
And then, I buried my head in your breasts
whispering “p-a-m-p-l-e-m-o-u-s-s-e!”
And our seriousness died laughing.
— by Adam Donaldson Powell, from “Collected poems and stories”, 2005, Cyberwit publishing.
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