What I Learned from Lester by Pat West
The gang plays
hide-and-seek
with the lights out
and I bump into
Lester in the living
room. He pulls me
down on the couch
and gives me a kiss.
Notices my need
for instruction
and whispers—
lick your lips,
lean toward me,
breathe slowly,
don’t think,
just feel.
Buddy Holly sings
Take Your Time
on the record player.
Lester strums his
fingers down my arm,
goose bumps bubble-up
and the scent of his
brown, leather jacket
finds its forever-spot
in my memory.
