POETRY

  

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.

©1999

Michael Blumenthal and Nerve.com