My Sister’s First Boyfriend
One summer my sister lost weight
          and grew boobs; her skin cleared up.
By fall she had a boyfriend —
          a tall, dark, skinny boy
who sat with her for hours at
          a time on the diving
board in our back yard, making out.
          How boring, I thought. How
could someone stay interested
          in a kiss for so long?
I kept waiting for them to do
          something else. They kissed and
they kissed. Father was safely at work,
          where he sold steel and more
steel. Mother watched them from the kitchen
          window, where she peeled
potatoes and more potatoes.
          I watched from the window
of the back door to the garage,
          where I was busy curling
and curling a weight bar. My sister
          and her boyfriend, wrapped and
wrapped around each other like freezing
          people in a snow cave,
kissed and kissed on the wooden
          diving board my father
had sanded and sanded, then varnished
          and varnished. He had rubbed
that board so long I’d thought he
          would reduce it to a
wafer. Why not buy a fiberglass
          board? I’d asked. No, he would
make this one like new. And on it
          sat my new sister with
her new boyfriend. As my mother
          scraped new potatoes. And
I contrived to grow new muscles.
          And my father filled orders
for girders to hold up new freeways.