Cellophane

Cellophane

I'm opening the blue box

already torn at the edge

it's alright to open

boxes in the store

if they're already torn—

like this blue

and white box

Chattanooga

across the top it's

cellophane

rattling as I slip

open the end to slide

the inner box

only part way out

enough to touch

the engine

this is what I have dreamed

under my fingers

every detail

nuggets of coal

in the box

the brass rails

the silver wheels

I can tell it's heavy

without lifting it

from the blue box

with the white letters

the store radio

is familiar

with a song I've heard

a million times

I wanna hold your hand I

wanna hold your hand

I wanna hold your hand

Scott

and Barb did

we sat under the jungle gym

touching one sweaty palm

to another—

peaches,

she smelled like the peaches

I had slurped down

at lunch

and her fingers

were sticky

and I was nervous

looking for the teacher

the other students,

not even sure

why

and as I push the beautiful

engine back into its box

before the store clerk sees

touch it once more through

cellophane run my fingers over

the white lettering

the blue background of sky

the stack billowing

broad puffs of dirty gray

I am memorizing this—

this will be mine

I can hear it whistle,

bell,

mine

he bumps me

he is above me

as I turn

he is smiling,

like he has found

what he was shopping for—

surely not my train

he bends very close

his cologne stinging

my nose

and the Beatles

still singing

I wanna hold your hand

and Barb,

sweet peaches

sticky

under the jungle

gym

my parents,

where are my parents

and he grabs

my wrist too hard

and still smiling

pulls me up

to his face

I wanna suck

your cock

suddenly

I am far, far

on the other side

of cellophane

but still seeing this

hearing this feeling

this

somehow knowing

he wouldn't think twice

about ripping

open

my beautiful

blue and white

box