I remember the first time that
we kissed,
because it was done in a way
that made me know
I would be hooked.
It was late afternoon,
the sun was low in the sky,
and it was summer time.
We were both sitting on his leather sofa,
back when it used to face the right
corner, beside the window;
watching Fear and Loathing,
a movie he couldn't believe I hadn't seen.
He asked if I wanted a beer,
and I said yes.
He came back with three,
and said,
"two for me." and smiled.
I sipped at mine,
because I never liked the taste,
but I was happy to be drinking
what he was.
PBR.
After drinking abit and watching
the movie,
he stood up,
took the beer from my hand,
and kissed me.

I couldn't forget about that kiss
for the next few days.
And I guess I still can't.