POETRY


Sit Back. Relax. Enjoy.  


Sit Back. Relax. Enjoy.

I remember saying it to my first lover —
frightened, only mildly interested, a virgin,

in a small apartment at 504 South Liberty
Avenue in Endicott, New York, circa 1967,

before the invention of technique
and caution, before there was heartbreak.

Sit back. Relax. Enjoy, I said,
wanting to ease her toward pleasure

the way a man eases a lame spouse downward
so he, too, can come to rest. Sit back.

Relax. Enjoy,
I repeated. Sit back. Relax.
Enjoy.
Now, twenty years and thousands

of enjoyments later, on American Airlines
Flight 363 from San Francisco, a stewardess

with the sweet scent of a dental hygienist
says it to me: Sit back. Relax. Enjoy.

How beautiful obedience is, I say to myself,
here in midair and midlife, thinking ahead

to the other end of our long flight
when a voice as heavenly as hers

will say it again: Sit back. Relax. Enjoy.
And we will.
                 


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