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.