I remember the summer of twelve years old when
My mother took me to a Navy base exchange
To buy a chocolate malt, and as I sat at our table
I sensed a circle of white enclose the bloom,
A sensation strangely different from rolling down
The hill with my childhood sweetheart. Then I knew
Narcissus was an ally for what would soon be
Snatched away before the mind’s better purpose
Could secure me from an alien assault. At twelve
A child yields to solitude and the first romantic
Thrust into daydreams, however naively shaped,
Even as uniforms suggested more than miscarriage
Of their outspoken deed: I was in the midst of
Their military presence who perceived my body as
A function of its own appetite, and I, shading my face
And hopelessly conceding the rest, held inside
A secret I would comprehend only years later.
For a child whose true desire was a spiritual
Necessity toward love, I misunderstood the silent
Advance and defiantly assumed a burden of terror
And vigilant sarcasm to resist those eyes that haunted
Me throughout the passage of lost innocence. More
Than once have I returned to the image of burning
Cigarettes, white uniforms, and chocolate malts
To declare a specific humiliation for a girl unaware
Of an emerging presence called universal pubescence.
