I encountered it
in the summer of 1969.
Probably around 10 at night.

This girl and I
were on a bench at Fairmont Park
under the moon.

I felt the conditions were propitious
in that we were both 17
and had been kissing our way toward this
for about a month.

Furthermore, the night was warm
and smelled of lilacs.

Singlehandedly
I cracked the braille
of her bra. On Earth
it was perfectly quiet.

Into my palm
came the great hot weight.
It was all so Ptolemaic.

In a week
some men would set down
on the moon.

They clomped around for a while
on the pale softness
and left.
But things would never be the same.