Thoughts of Kissing

There are those moments when I wonder if my brain can squeeze out another poem. How long can it last, I ask myself. This preamble leads me to an instructive experience…

A dance company was in town performing the annual “Thriller” show (basically a Michael Jackson tribute). The dancers were mostly from places like L.A. or New York, and the male dancers were, of course, mostly gay. I was okay with that. I even crossed paths with one dancer; his name was Christian and he had such an enchanting smile. I felt myself swooning each time I saw it (all two times). And with the last interaction we had, I thought to mysekiss-3lf “I could see myself kissing him.” I really did. Alas, we did not get the chance to lock lips. But the experience taught me that the creative process is infinite. As long as life continues to happen, the art–like poetry–will continue to happen.

And so, with that moment of pure potential, a poem was spawned:



What Happens Next (To Christian)

This was still new
We were still new
Sitting in near-darkness
Our eyes anchored
One to another
He reeled in my lust
With his smile
And Asked
What happens next?
His eyes closed
His lips poised
For my reply
Where we go next
Would depend
On this kiss
A kiss softly applied
closed lips
a second’s lifetime
Would make us
A penetrative kiss
the kind that sounds
like ripples of water
lapping at the shore
Would mean nothing more
Than an affair
Ending in
“Have a good night”
But if there is a pause
at first contact
If I breath him in
Taste his hunger
We could be loverskiss-1

Memorizing each other
Without discretion
Colored in tones
Of passion


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