One of men’s most secreted aspirations of bliss
is the bodaciously bold and pleasantly plump first kiss
by the woman wielding that one grin who makes his spine tingle
and whose electric glance makes his chest rattle and jingle.
On Burn & 3rd, her lusciously lavish lashing blazed my spirit ‘til it hissed.
When she first loans those sweetest breaths to your lungs
and allows you to taste the naughty notes of her tantalizing tongue,
it’s the quench of the most ravenous kind of thirst—
steadily ballooning since you caught sight of her first.
Clefs, crotchets, and quavers became my pulse
when her tiny and, yet, determined lips set my heart to “sung.”
When we stopped at the crosswalk, my eyes found hers.
Those honey irises confirmed she, too, felt divine connection was assured.
‘Twas at a random stop sign
where I cared not if passersby were even there to mind,
we intertwined souls.
Serving the first kiss any way other than spontaneously
is beyond absurd.
From the Soul,