I could've had my first kiss
at the age of sixteen.
A small space between
a church and a storage building
stuffed full of aged preteen
football padding.

I was told he liked me
by a cousin in science class,
caused me to laugh.
No one could possibly
like me around here.
Too much to handle,
infinite bliss.

I decided eighteen was the year
to have my first kiss,
he was my favorite dear.
In the back of a car,
I can still taste it in beer.

I wonder sometimes.
Would things be different
if we walked out of that small space,
red faced in moonlight
when asked by friends
why my face was so bright?
Go smoke that ****,
I'm such a giver.
Put your arm around me,
warm me from the cold air
coming from the river?