"Ex" Marks the Spot

Not a cross to bear--
more like “ex” marks the spot
of unexpected treasure,
found without a map.

Thank you, sun-freckled summer girl,
for saying, early on,
boxers, not briefs,
even if the time wasn't long.

Thank you, with your curling energy,
for saying maybe it is
right after I said
everything feels alright.

Thank you, eyes like mine,
for a kiss and its encore,
coming back more beautifully,
a comet swinging closer.

Thank you, so warm and dark,
for praising my backside
in front of the salesgirl as she
handed me a pair of jeans.

Thank you, fellow teacher,
for being my stand-up partner
even when we weren't
until the laughs ran out.

Thank you, the only blonde,
for rousing me from winter blues
with a sudden spring--
or was it a pounce?

Lines intersecting, then continuing,
leaving a mark on my axis,
even if I ask, rhetorically now,
ex and why?