our first kiss
was in the high school
library. i was staring and staring
and you said "what?" and what
i tried to say was "you want to kiss
me," and what came out was
"you want to kiss me?"
and you did.
our first kiss
was on a playground
bridge, in winter and you tasted
like cinnamon hearts from the
fireball whiskey bottle i
keep on my red dresser and
metal from your lip piercing.
you told me, "we're not
together okay?" but our
mouths were and our bodies were.
our first kiss was
slightlyhighverydrunken
on a couch in your
best friend's living room
you were tentative
i was twenty four and
nothing really has been
good since then; like
your tongue was the curse
and the cure both at
once.
our first kiss was
in an irish pub called
molly bloom's
over a plate of nachos
too big to eat
it was rushed and
a little eloquent and
short-lived, a lot like you,
actually.