The Last Kiss

I once lived in fear for 10 days,
far from home,
waiting anxiously by the phone,
carrying it with me everywhere,
hoping, praying
that every gust,
every involuntary twitch
of my thigh,
was her reaching back to me.
Checking in, letting me hear
that sweetness in her voice
yet again.

I returned not satisfied,
not at ease,
until I saw her again,
and could hold her against me,
and sigh that we were safe and together.

We ran for a bus,
just made it.
I can remember feeling her sigh
with a feeling of safety
against my shoulder
so that I could put my arm
around her and kiss her head.

I remember, I spent the last of the
money I came back with on two movie tickets,
and a large dinner to split.

We came back to my apartment,
she made fun of the novelty
mask of polished stones that I'd
purchased in the desert, because
the vendor wouldn't leave me alone,
and I didn't have the heart
to tell him to go away.

We sat there together for a while,
only briefly in the semi-darkness,
spoke little, but smiled, both of us,
together.

And when she rose to leave, I let her go.
And she let me hold onto her for a moment,
I put my hands around her waist,
and she bent down politely
and kissed me once, and the walls were cracked.
Twice, and the stones all melted.
The third time, I died,
and hovered above my body
watching her walk toward the door
as I breathed a sigh of
relief.