last kiss

I steal my first kiss in the second grade, after a merry chase around the desks. She smells fresh like lavender and soap. But never returns the favor.

I mean my first kiss in high school, and it leaves me black and blue. She smells exotic like, ripe fruit left on the street corner in the sun. Intoxication leaves me wide open, for the stiletto to slip between my ribs. Then she uses it to pick me from between the treads of her shoe.

I barter my first kiss in college for road trips on a streetcar, whimsical one night dances beneath a somber moon. Love is free, so why shouldn't it be me? No strings or fine print hidden in the margins, yet while lips are full, each heartbeat echoes in the emptiness.

I give my last kiss in a shower of pure driven snow, and it ruins me from ever seeking another. She smells like a breeze, blowing across waving fields of wheat under blue skies. Each day we relive that moment, one more kiss...as if its our last.

(On a completely different note...update on my mom: She came through surgery nicely. They put a plate and four screws into her leg, along with some wire. Wrapped it all up in a cast for Christmas...or it will look like Christmas when the grandkids are done with the markers and paint. She starts PT tomorrow...and the road to recovery begins. Thanks for all the warm thoughts, prayers and wishes yesterday. I felt the love.)