First dates with Holden Caulfield
and boys who play chess.

Do I count you as just another boy
who I played chess with?
Castled me into corners and
call 
King me-- king me
I said 
We're playing CHESS you know?
and you laughed 
because you thought I was kidding.
I sat short like a row of pawns
playing out their lives in strategic 
sacrifice for their KING 
their king who 
takes you square by
square by square
one sauntered step at a time
until you call--
CHECK MATE 
because I was too busy watching 
the way your horses danced with your
bishops and couldn't help but 
wonder why lovers played with war
on a coffee table--
It was my queen who wanted patricide--
who wanted to see you in squares
of blood between the bent knees
of the pawns.

I met Holden Caulfield for
the first time in Central park.
I was waiting at one of the chess
tables for another boy or lover
or tyrant to CHECK MATE
me into saying 
I love you
only for him to kill my queen again.
He came up to me in his red hunting
hat and told me I shouldn't trust
boys who play chess--
I said
I read about you
and he rolls his eyes.
He gets
this all the time-- bunches up
the sleeves of his flannel and 
removes the red hunting hat
to stuff into his pocket
he says
That was a long time ago
People passing by
walking their dogs and holding
on to their children by the
collars of their hoodies
look at us and 
notice Hold Caulfield now sitting next
to me. Some of them point.
and take pictures with their disposable 
cameras-- flashes on-- we blink
away stars-- 
The hold up copies of 
Catcher In the Rye 
and ask us
where the ducks go in the winter
where the duck go in the winter
he shakes his head
I don't know
I don't know
can't you see I'm playing checkers?
And I say
They play chess with each other
and forget to swim
and he laughs and says
that if you love someone you
learn to play 
checkers--
And I say 
I won't keep my kings in the
backrow
And he says
You can have kings three
checkers high.
And we made ourselves jumping
monarchs from the squares 
of a checker board.
I can't tell you who won
but there were no castles
there were no kings
no bishops and no horsemen 
to write dances about
falling out of love 
like coffee table war
like patricide
like lost queens who
all the pawns had cried for.
Only stacks of checkers 
taller than the
sky scrapers around us.