kiss

"Really? she says, her anger tilting towards fury. "Well then, kiss me."

I hear her disbelief, she knows that I won't take her up on her challenge. I take three strides. I'm tall, but people seem to forget how much ground I can cover. How long my arms can be. A damned spider monkey sometimes.

And I'm face to face with her. Her lips painted red, still set in a hard line. Only her eyes have had time to show surprise. I can smell the gin responsible for the anger and her slow realization.

Its only when I tuck a blond lock of hair behind one ear that she realizes that I would. And her lips part, not with anticipation, but with a slowly welling objection. I see the crow's feet around by each eye. It makes her seem more knowing. And yet, her eyes are so wide and blue, and there is still a vulnrability there.

I brush my lips against hers, feeling, tasting the waxy lipstick. I lick her lips, once. A flicker of the tongue. Her arms raise to push me back and I grab her foreams and pull her to me. Cover her mouth with mine, feel the teeth beneath the cushion of her lips.

She stands on tip-toe to try and lean away from me, but that is all that she has left of her objection, and I slide one hand behind the curve of her neck.

My tongue licks her teeth and she falls into the kiss. With me. Breathless.

makeout

i wanna neck with Tanya just to see what music she'd play.

jeezus, making out is fun

Oh lord won't ya buy me a Mercedes Benz

it was late May. The sun was hot, mid-day, but there was still a bite in the air. I was sweaty, hot, tired and feeling a chill down my spine. I had around four hundred trees in the ground, and the day was not going well. She was the acting shift boss and came by to see how I was faring in my plot.

It wasn't going well. I was leaning on my shovel, by the logging road, dust in my mouth. when I blew my nose teh snot was a deep viscous gray. The bugs were just starting to come out, but mercifully were blown askew by the annoying wind.

My mood was torn between the beauty of spring in the north, and the meloncholy of letting love go. Kathleen had moved to Edmonton, and I was still in Ontario. Not that it would have worked anyway, but god, did I yearn. But the wind was blowing, the land was greening and the sky was a sunwashed blue.

I chatted with the shift boss about my problems, both planting and love, and she offered me sincere if sparse consolation.

but what I remember most is her walking away. Wearing baggy pants, flannel shirt, big rubber boots and kicking up little puffs of dust as she walked down the logging road. Singing Janice Joplin.

I bought 'Pearl' as soon as I got into the city.