Kissing at the red light you’d pull your scrubs
to your knees and let me inhale. What’s one
more stain to a nurse? Hints of Doms and Subs
had hit a nerve. “My husband isn’t fun
like that,” you murmured. After the drive-thru
I’d go down on you, tonguing inner thighs,
belly folds, cleavage and cleft. “Make me spew.”
And you did. A scent of girl cum, French fries
and pine would cling to me all day. Sluice rhymes.
Anxious breath. Things that adults did, I thought,
were weird. Was this cool? Fonzie-level cool?
Who knew? It was how we spent our lunchtimes.
You with this anxious child. “It’s our secret,”
you’d say, dropping me back at middle school.
With his trademark, “Ayyy,” dressed in a leather jacket and riding a motorcycle, Arthur Fonzarelli, better know as Fonzi or The Fonz, was a character from the 1970-80s TV show, Happy Days … and I was at that age where the pinnacle of cool had to be either David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust or Fonzi, even with that episode where he jumped the shark.