more than satisfied with the way
she looks, every move
designed to draw the eye. My eyes,
for sure. And I can’t believe other guys
wouldn’t feel the same
way. There is something extremely
alluring about a girl who’s completely at ease
in her own skin.
And this one loves how she’s put together.
Her sister, however, for all her beauty-
focused goals, seems
to hold something in reserve. She is closer
to my age. But she is so not my type.
Not sure why I think
Jenna is, but I can’t wait to research.
Her mom tells her it’s time to leave. I watch
her exit, enthralled
by the performance. She is one of a kind.
She Is On My Mind
On the short drive to the All the Right
Moves dance studio.
Usually, when I meet a girl, I make her
wait a day or two before I ask her out.
For some reason,
I’m driven to skip the whole coy charade
and call Jenna right away. She answers
on the third ring. “Hey.
It’s Andre. Are you free Saturday night?”
Wow. You’re direct. I like that, and I’d
like to say yes, but I
kind of had tentative plans for Saturday.
That stings. And I’m late for my lesson.
“Okay. I’ll try again.”
I go inside. The place is empty, except
for Liana, who is on her own phone.
Warm up, she mouths,
nodding toward the open studio door.
I start my stretching, thinking about
the magnetic smile that
drew me immediately to the girl I can’t
seem to get off my mind. Liana comes in,
and we begin a familiar
routine. I’ve done these steps dozens
of times, but I can’t keep them in the right
order. I can hear my dad
saying how if he wants something, he won’t
let anyone tell him he can’t have it. Andre!
scolds Liana. Where’s your
head today? Did you forget how to count?
Focus, Andre, focus. One, two, three, four…
Somehow I make it
through the rest of my lesson. Pay Liana
the money I finagled from Mom. At last,
I can call Jenna again. “You
know those tentative plans? Cancel them.”
Cara
At Last
It’s a perfect winter day.
No wind. No Arctic freeze.
Cloudless azure sky. A day
to fly.
Snow drapes the mountain
like ermine, fabulous feather-
light powder coaxing me
to flee
the confines of my room, brave
the mostly plowed road
up to the closest ski resort.
To run
from the cloying silence
connecting Mom and Dad,
into encompassing stillness
far away
from city dirt and noise.
Far above suburban gridlock.
Far beyond the grasp of home.
First Decent Day In Weeks
Mt. Rose will be swarming by noon.
Good thing I got here early.
Nothing much better than first
tracks beneath cloud-clear skies.
Heaven must be something
like boarding on night-crisped virgin
powder. Lingering atop a cornice,
few other people in sight, I take
a deep pull of winter-spiked air, finesse
over the lip. Two sweeping turns
to safety. Here, where there are no
hypercritical eyes, I slip
past denial, into the moment.
It’s all up to me. Slide down
the steeps, into belief. I am
no more, no less than this ride.
Midmorning
The crowd is starting to build.
Most people prefer the high-
speed chairs, and those lines
are long. Not sure why so few
enjoy the old-fashioned slow
lifts to the top, but I love these
unrushed minutes. Suddenly
the chair bumps to a stop.
Problems below in the loading
zone, no doubt. I look over
at the racecourse run. The pines
at its edges have grown. How long
has it been since Conner and I
raced there? Four years? Five? I was
never fast enough to earn the medal
I coveted. Conner often placed in
the top three but never cared about
winning. I’ve often wondered how
twins could be so different. Why did
the one with the talent lack the drive?
The Lift Starts Up Again
I survey the terrain beneath me,
find a relatively unpopulated route
down through the trees. Risky
to ride there alone, but I doubt
I’ll have a whole lot of trouble.
Despite my parents’ lukewarm
support, I’ve been skiing or boarding
for years. I might not be as