First Kiss (or About a Boy)

[searingedrock]

There is a way in which
I remember a first kiss, or
how I prefer it to be remembered
the same way in which I treasured my first perfume which I placed
softly behind each ear
on the buds of breasts
and the inside of each thigh.

There is a way in which a boy asks
as if he is unsure that this is really
intended for him.
The way in which his shoulders are both
as slender as mine and yet
hardening to steel.

There is a way in which the boy, searching this new place,
is afraid the way boys can be afraid,
and eager the way a man is
who does not yet know that he is man.

And there is the smell of a boy,
he is clean soap mixed with his father's cologne and
a milky musky smell/taste that may remain
years later
as a memory of a whisper.

Lastly there are his hands and they are trembling birds upon your body
with each urgency growing strong
and soon, stronger
and then he is no longer a boy.