Kisses


by Ted Guhl

The first kiss is so extraordinary,
The lips coming together and blood rushing heat
to the face, to the point of contact,
time stretching and rising all at once.
Then the breaking of contact, the pause to wonder
Before resuming hungrily.

In the second kiss, the lips press
A bit more tightly or open sensually
To the tongues dance.

The third kiss comes striding confidently.
Perhaps the exploration of new territories begins.
The search for other mouths.

There will be times of wanting, when all kisses
Are memories, or chill illusions that touch
Only the mind.

There will be many kisses after the first:
Kisses like dares, like warm baths;
Kisses that smell of bile, or basil;
Kisses that wear actor's masks, or shout truths like orators;
Dominating kisses, indulgent kisses; lying kisses;
Kisses too complex to describe or as simple as a smile.

If one is very lucky, life itself may become a kiss,
The intimate kiss of a genuine lover that Oh so gently
Exists in the eyes and manner.

One day. One certain day, the last kiss will arrive.
That kiss will be so unlike the first - will barely
Recall it or any other.
The mere brushing of a butterfly's wing,
Missed if one is not entirely awake.