He comes when you graduate from adolescent innocence, your departure marked by the ooze of blood and bodily fluids. In that one second, when you feel a part of you leave, he is barely an idea.
He comes when a stranger holds you, lies to you, caresses you so you will open and whisper “Dear God” into ambivalent ears. He comes when you arch your back and open your mouth over lips screaming your name. In that minute, he is there: a thought, a fear.
He comes when men make you do things you never imagined you would do when you first left your childhood behind. He comes in wonder, anxiety, and vulnerability. He roots himself inside the deep corners of your unconscious.
He comes when you hold a man who is not ambivalent, who tells you the truth so he can hear “Dear God” and keep you open forever. He comes out of his dark corner and into your working mind, now conscious of him beyond your senses. He comes in anticipation.
He comes when you lie in a silvery room, bright lights burning your eyes, a nurse’s “push” competing with your “fuck you!” You hesitate briefly, for you want him to stay in you; but your pain wins; and he comes out and reaches for your breast. And you are one.
He comes when the only sound is “Mma,” and this one word pulls you out of sleep, away from books, out from under your lover. He comes with hunger and pain and fear and a need for only you.
He comes with Band-Aids, bruises, trips to the emergency rooms. He comes climbing overgrown trees, falling out of overgrown trees, swinging from branches of overgrown trees, until you cut down all overgrown trees so he will not see them and stop hanging. He comes hanging out of windows, then off the porch roof he reaches after hanging out the windows. He comes hanging out of the car windows. He comes over, under, around, into anything until you wonder when he will go and why he ever came.
He comes with hysterical screams over a word as simple as “no.”
He comes with soccer balls and hockey sticks, jammed into your car, sprawled about the garage, thrown into room corners. He comes with refusals to complete schoolwork unless blackmailed or bribed.
He comes with pimples and silence, broken by an occasional mumble.
He comes with emotional anguish of lost friends, no friends, cruel friends, and friends who look as if they were just released from prison.
He comes with lofty ideals, hope and an ego that will fix the world.
He comes with a duffel bag, because learning is over, and he has no place else to go.
He comes with depression and guilt about something he cannot discuss, because he thinks you don’t understand. He doesn’t know men did the same thing to you.
He comes with her, and she has touched him in a way you never could.
He comes with a bundle of cloth and a blood red face that looks as wise as an old man, and when you hold her, she opens her eyes and you share a moment.
He leaves with his women, and you look out the window and whisper goodbye.