Three Secrets, All Firsts

I met Daryl McKnight in a shack at the dump on my last day

in Greeley. The moving truck was already packed with our home.

What does it say that my first kiss was a goodbye kiss?

Should I have seen the omen? What did I want to give away

besides the awkward press of our lips? I barely remember

the kiss, but can still picture the Black Widow

close by in the corner of the shed. I’d never seen a Black Widow before.

It took years before I realized how dangerous love is.

The first time I had sex, Glen and I were at a friend’s apartment

in El Paso’s east side. We went upstairs to Baron’s room

and took a shower. Together. Naked. I can’t remember how we ended up

under that stream of water, but I remember the shock

of his penis – the first I’d seen, and this one I confronted

up close and in person. Do all young women find

a penis a freaky animal at first? The first time

I got married, the invitation said we’d marry

“under the desert sky” — it was January, and the willow tree in our yard

was barren of leaf, so I tied a hundred colored ribbons to the branches.

The breeze lifted lifted them slightly above us. No matter how much

we decorate what is barren, that doesn’t bring it to life. I stood apart

on the patio after the ceremony and thought I just made a big mistake.

Please don’t tell anyone I shared this. No one needs to know

I started my marriage with regrets.