Arms and objections occupied, I leaned tight
while you held me from behind, whispering
unfamiliar syllables into my warming ear.
I remember your hands, and how I wanted

the force of them firm around my breasts;
fingertips exploring chilled hard nipples.
Old enough to want, too young to recognize
the scent you were leaving on my expectations.

You stood silhouetted against carnival lights;
Ferris wheel colors haloing your dark hair.
I grabbed my instamatic; snapped a hunk of you
as you left for California. And I am still here.