It used to be
lying across the backseat, eyes tight,
feeling the turn onto your street and up the driveway,
hearing the hum of the garage and the whispering;
pretending to sleep
to be carried upstairs and slipped into flannels.

And eyes blink open
to adulthood; just there,
like sliding into a pair
of damp swim trunks
and the first cold moisture
sticking to the thighs.