When that blue-black cloud
came over the sand lot with drops
of rain big as marbles, we ran
down the dark alley into Big John's
orchard where we leaned, then
clutched the other's shivering body
and I had my first kiss.
But what I remember most is the running,
how our wet clothes hung to our skin
and the clouds actually billowed up
as lightning struck the hill.
And the smell of cut grass getting wet,
the sense of chill coming,
the wanting to go home and the wanting never to leave,
just the two of us, who didn't love,
barely liked each other,
breathing, holding hands
the way we'd hold an apple slick with rain,
or a slingshot stone, lightly,
ever so lightly.