Junior high hallways of
Girls kissing, without meaning
It
Like boys getting the erections they
Did not hide
From those wishing to see them shy,
But not away.

Sisters were a specialty with
Incestual immunity-
A senior class with nine sets of twins and
Two-hundred, watching them share chapstick.

Girls at liberal arts school,
Painting our ******* like we were wearing the same dress
To the weekend's party
And could dance ourselves clean
Without touching a thing.

In Spring, the Bennington bookstore special-ordered
THE KISS posters
Stuck on girls' ceilings that semester like
Plastic stars
Glowing in the dark above their beds-
Alone, watching white-pantied girlfriends
Lick lips above their heads.

We moved mattresses,
Made floors into king-size beds, and mocked manliness
Our boyfriends' weariness when they visited.

Holding roommates and classmates naked by the *******,
We found by spooning each other
How deeply we fell asleep.
To wake up, stretching in the sunlight of open curtains
No one would tell us to shut.

Quickly, we were moving to Boston with our boyfriends and making
Pairs of plans,
Then abandoning each at our own pace,
Like we'd talked about at night before we'd have to have that pain.

Years later, I followed my lover to meet his parents,
Who took us to dinner, and after,
My head on his childhood pillow,
Looked up at two girls kiss.