First Kiss

Were the fireflies guilty

of casting even more heat,

Their on-again off-again

lights switches, weaving

In and out of the sweltering

stillness of

Twilight in July?

Or was it the heavy air,

After it's cloudless day

In the sun,

Spent, dripping beads of sweat

Onto the grass,

As it descended toward its rest?

No, it wasn't fireflies,

Or the air, or July.

You,

Were the source of the heady

Weakness in my knees, the pounding in my chest.

Standing closer to me than

You had ever been,

Than I ever thought you'd be.

On the driveway, gravel diamonds shone beneath

The glow of the streetlight.

You leaned in, our eyes closing,

Offering up reverence

To the moment,

My first kiss,

Certainly not yours.

Lucky me.

Dear Diary, what a night.

July 6th, 1985