My First Period

It was not a dark and stormy night or some shit like that,
Nor was it the middle of summer while we were so quietly
yet so loudly in our own ears
dreaming our daily dreams.

Nah, my first period
was every morning at 8AM, and I was never late, usually
sometimes
maybe.

My first period was dirty.
The kids were loud and abusive to the high school teacher they only
vaguely respected,
and listened to even more vaguely,
whatever that means.

It wasn’t an English class.

My second period happened during my first period, when I got call from you.

Driving over, I knew that I had to do right by you, girl,
cus, something or the other told me so.
Well I skipped my first period cus I had to deal with my second period, your period.

I bounced to no music in the car,
swaying my head so much
that my neck was confused,
and beseeched me in its sweet neck way,
“Don’t break me, Andrew.”

So I didn’t.
I never do.
Necks are important.

We need them to nod our heads when you ask us if we love you.
We need them to shake our heads with vigor
when you ask us if that other girl,
who was smokin’ hot,
was hot.
We need them to hold up our craniums
jam-packed with jams
from the early days when compact discs ruled the music industry.
You remember. The things between cassettes and digital music.
CDs happened during the transition from hard music copies to soft music copies.
And you, my dear, during my first period, called me over to deal with your period.
It was our first period together, and well, I certainly showed it.

I didn’t bring the ice cream you asked me to because,
well,
I didn’t remember you asking me.
You scream something loudly which I kinda hear.
I should have already known you wanted strawberry ice cream?
Is that what you said?

I wish I could say sorry for not listening
but you’d ask why,
and the only answer I have is
that I was saving this conversation mentally
so I could share it with other people later.

My first period, my second period, our first period
lasted a week.
A period of a week.
That’s a lot of crazy to deal with in a week,
and I’m sorry you had to go through that.
Next time, I’ll know better.

Vanilla, right?