Viking Battle Lost

When last we touched,      
our bodies pure with the sweetness of adolescence         
crashed into unmatched desires.    
Hers for eternity; mine for the moment.            
     
Now thirty-four and waiting for coffee         
I smell awkwardness in the air    
and feel the touch of someone across time.    
She’s behind me now but unrecognizing.    
     
I reminded her of my name to her halted laugh.    
She looked down, glancing across by body as her eyes fell.    
“That was so long ago,” she said.    
Her eyes were still brown and clear.    
Skin smooth tan with twenty years of added sun.      
“I’m married now, mother of two. And you?”    
     
I looked away and said, “It's just me,”      
remembering her body as the first of so many.         
A conquest in my Viking battle for    
desires fulfilled, often with collateral loss.    
     
Sitting alone, my mind swirled with tangled bodies now unrecognizable.    
     
Were they only flesh for animal desires? I could not remember her body at all!    
     
My eyes burned with the salt of a distant sea and she appeared clearly.    
     
I remembered that moment I first entered the warmth of her firm clinging center,      
pressing into her precious place where life might begin.    
     
In her pink fairly tail bedroom, decorated before her birth,            
she frantically accepted the novice thrusting of my shaft,      
holding me in the moist grip of her virgin treasure.    
Her red nails clawed and danced across my back as she whimpered    
The only other sounds were the soft slaps of my body against hers.    
     
Hair, smelling of strawberry shampoo, unfurled on her princess pillow        
swaying to my rhythmic stabs.    
     
Into her spreading body I spent my final thrust           
as galvanic cum cascaded into the warm depths of her.      
I arched my back in rapture and read “Once upon a time” over her bed.    
     
I stared at the words, then fell back onto her young breasts,    
giving one final push.    
     
I grasped at her body, pleading for ecstasy to last,    
but was quickly soft inside of her.      
We were a pile of broken sweaty flesh.           
I looked into her face.    
Her eyes were red-wet from the injuries of our first and only battle.    
     
I could have been gentle, entering with curiosity,    
amazed at the journey we were beginning together,    
but adolescent boys aren't known for thoughtfulness.    
I could have carefully placed my hand over her vagina,  
thankful for the richness and complexity of her  
while dreaming of future expeditions into that place of wonder.      
     
Her coffee in hand, she walked past to leave.        
I stood to open the door and said, “I’m sorry.”      
With a slight smile, she lowered her chin, “Me too.”