ODE TO SAND LAKE

that deer in the middle of the road

(that mild June day)

reminded me of you

when we got to the lake:

his eyes were wide like yours were

when i was pumping into you

in my aunt's bed

with the white puffy blankets

and the thin white striped sheets

i remember we found the lube in her drawer

he was frozen like you were frozen (the deer),

not making a sound

as the bed made scratches on

her newly-refinished hardwood floors

(i wonder if she made them from trees around the lake)

your eyes were wide like the deer's -

checking the clock

asking me when she would be home

to find the scratches on her floors

we would have had plenty of time

if i could finally finish this thing

you were my first

but i was far from yours;

it made me think that i was boring you

you didn't take off your shirt

because of mild June

i had burns on my chest

for days after

the lake water did not help

when we went swimming after

i imagined you cleaning yourself

in that murky lake water

after i came on your arm

(for which i am still sorry)

the deer stood there in the daylight

as you lied on the boat deck

while i drove us out to the middle

where our feet would not touch the seaweed

i know that deer can't swim

but you were still so frozen in the road

under the pontoons

i imagined your suit being torn off

and the lake water (brown

but still somehow clear)

rushing into you

like how i almost rushed into that deer

in the road