REALLY Old Poetry

The following poems are two of my oldest, written when I was in my very early 20s, before I took my first college level writing course. Laugh at me if you want, but be kind. Besides, vampires are still vogue, right?

Eternal

I'd love to be a vampire
& entice you with my grace,
seduce you with my bedroom eyes,
take you in my dark embrace,

Then we could both be vampires
& watch eternities unfold,
witness history come & go,
never growing old.

We'd be creatures of the dark,
free of mortal complications,
free to love a million years,
melting in with each new generation.

The seven wonders of the world
would exist solely for us to admire;
we'd watch them crumble to the earth;
we'd create new wonders to our desire.

I'd show you the land;
you'd show me the sea,
yet our greatest pleasure
would lie 'tween each others knees.

We would live together,
                  run together,
                  love together,
                  hunt together.

Until at a time of our choosing,
once we knew we could no longer be,
You & I would walk hand in hand into the fire,
to join the ashes of eternity.

Under the Whatever Tree

¿Strolling? Yeah, strolling:
Strolling, with an adolescent giddiness
I haven't felt since my days of scholarly pursuit,
(Yeah, right! More like my pursuit of a good time.)
strolling, with her strolling next to me,
& I'm a clumsy little schoolboy again
wanting, trying to hold her hand;
but I don't, not sure if I should,
not sure she wants me to,
not sure she wants me.

So I settle for sly touches
disguised as clumsy little bumps,
& we stroll & bump & sip cheap tequila
trying not to make funny faces,
(¡God that shit tastes terrible!)
until we feel all good & tingly,
& we stroll under a sycamore
(or whatever, I don't know trees)
to relax on a bed of grass & headlines.

Frolic? ¡Yeah, Frolic!
We frolicked just a little bit,
under the Whatever Tree,
pinching, prying, tickle-poking,
a bit of laughter, a bit of joking,
having fun enjoying the bit of numbness
between our ears.
We got each other sticky sweet,
(Or she got me, I can't speak for her)
Until our eyes catch,
(kinda like what always happens in soaps & chick flicks, you know?),
& of course, we kissed,
we kissed,
& we kissed
under the Whatever Tree;
& of course I wanted more,
but it wasn't my place to ask,
& I didn't.

I just start strolling, again
all the way to the subway;
she watches me leave,
leaves me wanting more.