Page O' Poems  

      Kisses (again)

The first time may have been in the rain
        in elementary school when I tried it and ran away
        and tripped and fell in the gravel
        and laughed.

Once a girl tilted my head back in the playground
        and kissed me softly, full on the lips.
        I pretended I didn't like it,
        but I still remember how the sun shone
        when she laughed afterwards.

I kissed a girl down by the river once when she cried.
        When I left, she wrote me letters
        and kissed everybody else while she waited
        for me.

One girl made kissing a game, one I always lost.
        We sat in the kitchen, talking about forcing locks
        and maybe breaking them.
        All I know is that I never got in.

I found someone I could hold in the dark and not see,
        even though I started kissing with my eyes open.
        The next morning I always wished that my eyes
        would stay shut.

I kissed a girl I never should have, ever
        so softly.

Then I learned how to be kissed by someone I didn't know,
        someone I watched all night,
        someone who tasted like whiskey and cigarettes.
        I felt it coming and I knew then
        that one of us would remember it as a mistake.

Now, not even dream-kisses are innocent.

--Z.T. Oct 30, 1998

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