She cannot remember
The number of lips
She has kissed in her lifetime

She is strangely proud of this
Like a kindergartener with a new watercolor

Look at all the fun I've had

Her memories are filled
With smart men
Funny men
And beautifully attractive men

And some not

Wince.

They come and go
She tells herself
Feelings are transient
And love is too much work

And yet
She finds
The more lips she kisses
The more arms that hold her
The more wedding pictures her friends seem to flaunt...

The more that piercing pang,
That warmth in her belly
Wants a man to stay

And yet
She tells herself
That she's not allowed to settle
An old German man told her so

But somehow
It becomes easier and easier
To imagine a future
With the men that she meets

Is it desperation?
Is it desire?
Or is she finally looking in the right places?