"[Julie Andrews]" by James Evans Remick II

“[Julie Andrews]” by James Evans Remick II

I only remember certain fights.
Like that one when I said I’d like to fuck Julie Andrews.
This was on some mild spring or summer day.
Together we lay on a blanket. “No.”
Her curtness stung more than the answer.
She didn’t even bother to look up from her book.
I pulled up some grass and chewed it for a minute.
It was something my Father did when gathering his thoughts.
A small gust of wind kicked up the silence between us.
She flicked to another page and then another. “Jealous?”
I watched the short purple burst of her nails. “I won’t let you on principle.”
She closed her book and unbuttoned her blouse.
Her soft white breast invited me into defeat.
The wind spoke up again and she shivered.
It may have been late fall.
I only remember the fight, though I distinctly remember the chirping birds.
To this day she claims the birds are why I said Julie Andrews