Poem: First Kiss | Poetry | Hudson Valley | Chronogram Magazine
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Poem: First Kiss 

First Kiss

I asked her to tell me if she remembered
her first kiss.
                      Of course, of course, she said.
I was five and he was six; we were always
together after school. We'd hide
beneath the stairs or under lilac trees
behind the garage.
                     As far back as memory goes
he was my best friend, and when we were together
he would ask me:
               Do you want to play Married
or In Love?
                What's the difference?
I would ask.
                Well, Married you just hold hands,
but In Love you get to kiss too,
                                                    he smiled.
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