Ernie from the Sesame Street Show
my sister also had Kermit,
but she wouldn't let anyone play with that
once we fed Ernie a piece of cheese
and the cheese got stuck
in this fine groove way in the back of his throat
and it hardened and congealed
and melded together with the plastic
and it just stuck there
we couldn't look at him the same after that
sticking your hand inside his body to make his mouth move
had lost something it used to have
so i would leave my sister
and wander into my bedroom
painted a suspiciously odd color of pink
being eyed by a bed full of stuffed animals
holding my new pet frog in my hand
looking for some jar or bowl to place him in
my fifth grade boyfriend would come over hours later
we would force slivers of grass into the frogs mouth
poke his stomach to make him to jump
and wonder if we were going to catch warts
then we would just stare and stare and stare at each other
this boy from three blocks away
might brush his hand against mine reaching for the frog
we might feel something deep inside our bodies
something that pulled and hurt and that we didn't understand
we might kiss leaning over that box full of frog
we might become overwhelmed by the sexiness of warm wet frog
by the idea of sticking our hands
inside the dark stomachs of sesame street characters
that we might begin to think things we didn't even know of
to think of yet
a different boy from across the street
begged and begged me to punch him one day
thinking i didn't have the guts
daring me with antagonism and flirtation, so i did
and we both stared in shock
at the thick line of blood that poured from his lip
and we held each others eyes
for a long second of heat and breath and danger
until i panicked and broke into a run
for my house and my father and a confession
sometimes you feel like you have done something wrong
but you don't know why
like flipping through television channels late at night
babysitting for the neighbors and pausing
to watch the Benny Hill Show
sticky honeysuckle trees
or playing doctor with a friend
i can give a name to all those thing now
but when i was ten the hot asphalt of our driveway
burning the backs of my thighs covering my arms in lines
of marching caterpillars and waiting for a friend to wander over
these things didn't have a name or a knowledge or a voice
they had that thing we forget to hold onto now
seductive pleasure and innocence and danger
it is what draws us out of the house
in the middle of the night to watch the snow
places us on the roof outside our bedroom windows
during high school trying to smoke cigarettes
and leaves us kissing frogs
and boys with bloody lips and Ernie sesame street characters
while trying to understand
the heat that boils inside everything
and we wishing we had developed a voice
to give it words
