Joelene -
coloured movies
But he really wanted us
to watch a movie.
Because here we were,
watching a comedic show
that was making us laugh.
'Tis was coloured,
and haven't been aired before
on our two-channel Tv.
And let me tell you,
the man could laugh.
Eric kept on laughing
and laughing
and laughing.
But then when all the joke
died down, and I started yawning
and stretching
and my frock rid up.
Eric paused the movie,
placed the phone on the
army-green bedsheets,
and asked: "tired?"
"A little," I said.
Then he tilted his head.
A lock of brown hair
fell in his eyes.
And I felt like...boy,
was I looking at
Leonardo DiCaprio.
Not Leonardo DiCaprio
in Shutter Island.
I meant the Leonardo DiCaprio
in Titanic.
Eric then asked
with a heavy hint
of curiosity in his voice:
"How old are you,
Joelene?"
And I told him.
He tensed slightly.
Like a robot.
And I panicked.
I should have lied.
I should have lied.
I should have lied.
But quickly, his forehead
smoothed out again,
in the pale moonlight
streaming through
our boarded-up window.
Manure and wet grass from the barn
was strong in the room.
But Eric had smelled like
fresh laundry and Sunday mornings.
Here what now,
I had to make up for my age.
"What?" I crossed my arms.
"Why'd you ask?"
Eric chuckled
and ruffled my hair,
"Nothing, squirt."
I huffed, "don't call me that."
"Why...squirt?" He teased.
He was annoying
and cute
all at the same time.
And I didn't know
if I wanted to smile
or frown at all.
I did both.
Then Eric, taking his teasing too far,
brought his face to mine.
I could see his faint beard and
smell cigarette on his breath.
Cigarette. Weed. Hot.
"Ever been kissed, Squirt?"
And before he waited
for what I had to say,
Eric was leaning in
and placing his cold
rough lips on top of mine.
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