Jimmy

Jimmy

Under the trees

at the end of the field.

The day we built our camp.

We had rusty nails, 

sweet cigarettes.

A radio that played opera.

You showed me a photo 

of a nude person.

It was your dad's.

We both kissed her, 

then each other.

We called her Gina.

And we did that all summer.

Until she became discoloured

with the autumn of our friendship.