DO YOU REMEMBER THE FIRST TIME?

Poetry

[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED]

BY RUI CARLOS DA CUNHA

Drunk! As a teenager nearly passed out kissing a stranger I just met.

Of course, we had the same birthday two years apart and I had just arrived.

Yes, I do remember like it was yesterday, even though, I was drunk.

Of course, I was with Scott and my brown pride brother, Sunil, we were the band.

Until she came to kiss my lips with my eyes shut, half-awake, half-asleep.

Resting in an armchair or deep in a sofa, I was lost to the world.

Even though we just met, she must have felt something, something I couldn't feel.

Maybe if I weren't drunk off a jug of cheap wine, I would have felt something.

Even though I was drunk, we went to a dark room where nothing happened, twice.

Maybe if I could see or feel below my waist, as we kissed in the dark.

Boy, did I feel stupid and grossly ignorant of what I could have done.

Even though I was drunk and we were on the floor for how long I don't know.

Right then and there, I felt inadequate failure as a breach of contract.

Then the guys had to leave, the party was over and we had to go home.

How she slipped her number into my hand and said, "Call me." I was shame-faced.

Even though, I couldn't perform for this woman, still, she wanted me, then.

For heaven's sake, I knew I would never call her . . . I was too embarrassed.

In years to come, we met again at a meeting for sex and love addicts.

Recovery was key for me back then before I plunged in the deep end.

Sex was never my thing, except when I was stoned, then I didn't notice.

Then, I felt in control of overwhelming thoughts and emotions, feelings.

Then, my first real girlfriend would play music, Bauhaus, on her vinyl player.

In that moment, back then, I didn't care a lick and lived for sex and love.

Maybe I never learned the right way to have fun, to make love with women.

Even though, the first time never comes round again, I remember her name.