directions for losing one's virginity

Take something you can stash
your panties in later,
an egg, a fur coat, a girl’s
wounded heart. And definitely
don't get too close.
Besides, it’s like cheap
perfume in a gorgeous bottle
but the scent never stays.
You can only tap into it by
the usual fare, the broken music
of your body, your limbs
entangled by telephone wire.
A paper mache egg
scrawled in 666’s. You sigh
his name and a woman
in a green dress tries to pull
you within the television screen.
When you hear the breathy lilt
of a country song you’ll wrench
yourself against a wall,
thinking they’re coming for you
and aching to let loose all the
Catholic school girls from your
ribs. Everything grown sad, or
heartbreaking, or black-lit. Old
people eating continental
breakfasts, your mother's hands
like forlorn madonnas. You’ll learn
to prefer your men like drugs,
eked out in pristine lines
and hazardous to your health.
Besides, you’re not the marrying
type anyway, can only grasp it
through the spines of books
bending, by gnashing your teeth
against your wrists.
Only, remember this, you can
dream if it doesn’t hurt her
or expose him. You'll never
know anything like it, the feel
of him under the red umbrella
of your skirt. Your fingers a cage
of pearls against the twilight.