first love at nautilus teachings

fancy finns grows up
                        fancy finns grows up

1980-The summer after graduation from high school is filled with goodbye parties, celebrations of freedom, shopping for college and trying to walk strong, be positive and find the right path.
A few weeks before summer I find myself in the pouring rain at a party. Few people are there by the time I arrive with a blind date my mother has set me up on. He is a bore. He is as skinny as a piece of drawing led and his hair is the color of charcoal. It is at this party that I meet Ted. By the end of the night Ted and I have exchanged numbers and addresses. He says he will write me, since he is 3 hours away from where I will be.
I was not sure
What to think
Of this guy
Smiles so sweet
Shiny citron hair
With glistening streaks of sunshine
Different from the rest
Crew of friends in tow
Laughter filling the muddy field
I will write him I say
What harm can it do
I see a few colors
And can add some more hues.
Ted is quiet and different
He appears somewhat like me
But I can’t see his colors
And this bothers me.
I am a prep!
I have the handbook and all the clothes thanks to my mother. From walking shorts, to penny loafers, monogramed sweaters and more. Who am I?
What am I supposed to be?
I wanted water.
I wanted color.
I wanted freedom.
I cry when my parents leave me. By night time, I have new friends and a new life. My dormitory floor is full of fascinating girls and the upper classmen have planned activities to help us all get to know one another. We play trust games. I attend a “kegger”, learn what a “beer bong” is, kiss a few girls, drool over all the handsome boys and then wake up believing I can expand my water world of childhood. I can fit in. In front of me are cerulean seas, shamrock green fields, soft sandy beaches surrounded by barnacled rocks and a palette of boys to sink my fingers in to.
Classes are easy, fluid and I soon develop a rhythm to life on campus. Ted and I write letters every week, but that is about it. October rolls in along with movie nights in the commons. My girlfriends and I go to a showing of, “A Star is Born” dressed in our jammies and toting our pillows and blankets. We are drinking beer, watching the movie and whispering when I notice him. He is 5’11”, softly curled dishwater blonde hair, this huge grin, big hands and he has on a yellow hooded sweatshirt.
ONE OF MY FAVORITE COLORS.
2010-Studio-Katy Perry is blasting out from my fuschia pink iPod, “I want to see your peacock…” I am frantically stroking passionate purple, azure blue, shamrock green and a myriad of colors to create wispy feathers. “Eye On You,” is taking shape. It is reflecting how I felt-young, wild, free and wanting boys to look at me. I wanted them to see my colors something my brothers never did. I wanted them to like me. I wanted them to smile. I can feel my palette dripping.
1980-College
Zak
is his name
Football player
#16.
His fingers are crooked
His hands are large
His smile
The magnificent mile
Leading to his heart
He is looking at me
I want to run
Back to my corner
And to not allow fun
To enter my life
For the thought of
Letting him inside
My head
is a scary thing
He is wearing
My cadmium yellow
My “air” color
I began
Breathing in the scent
Of him.
Our first meeting is right out of the movie, “Grease.” I have just made the pom squad and know exactly who he is. I feel awkward and shy. I want a corner to run to-any corner.
Save me
From the madness
From the encounter
Of a boy
Save me
From my heart
It’s beating way to fast
My palms are sweating
My tongue is tied
He’s walking over
Grin on face
Where do I go
I have no space
There are people
All around me
They are laughing
Drinking beer
They don’t even know
What’s happening
Why do I feel so queer?
Now he is close
I can feel him breathe
“Hi, my name is Zak,”
I cannot speak.
I smile and say nothing.
He says, “do you speak?”
I close my eyes and giggle
My face all a blush
dripping colors
“Sheri,” I mumble, “my name is Sheri…”
He grins so wide
I want to be on his lips
Sliding down from one curve
And landing at the next
He is sweet,
His eyes green
When he leans closer and says,
“Wanna go for a walk?”
I nod, set down my beer and turn
Into him
As I do this his hand catches mine
And we stroll to the moonlight
This first love of mine.
2010-Studio-Eyes upon the canvas, peeking out from feathers full. Moving softly in slow motion, the painting comes to life.
Filling up
and spilling over
to the edges
dare my colors go
I pluck a feather from
My imagination
And send it floating
Towards
His home.

i want to see your peacock!
          i want to see your peacock!