Sometimes a First Kiss Is a Matter

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of one olive caught between two tongues,

or a sister’s spying eye

behind the wood door. Sometimes

the kissers stand on roller skates

laced tight around their ankles

and hold each other’s shoulders

for balance. A kiss is made

wilder by sundown, after school

once every bell has rung

and the ghosts of closing drills

linger in the halls. Sweetest if

a teacher tells your mother

who pretends the schnitzel

isn’t burning as you burst

through the red frame.