The Baggy Trousered Philanderer

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My First Kiss

Karen,
My sister's friend.

"Go on, It's her birthday,
Give her a kiss."

Just out of the army,
A serious, shy youth,
I don't know,
Didn't know.

How.

"Go on."

"Would you like a
Birthday kiss?"

She stared at me,
Two years older
Than I.

I waited,
Seeming hours filtered
Through my brain.

"OK."

She grabbed me
To her.
She held my face
In her hands
And slipped her
Warm, moist tongue,
Into my virginal
Mouth.

Naivety!

When the Major
Told me at camp
That the 'effin
Russians were
After us,
And I wondered
Why?

Why the Russians?

Didn't they used
To be our
Allies?

And now
Karen,
Blonde, sensual, sexy,
Pressed harder with
Her delicious tongue,
I was shocked.
A tongue!

I once more
Grew as a man.

As one fear grew,
Another lessened,
And the boy
Felt less a boy.

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Unrequited

A love unrequited
With no need of blame.
I thought of you today,
And breathed out your name.

My breath took wing
And flew to the sky,
Hitchhiked a ride
From a lark passing by.

Flew over the church
Where the sweet bells rang,
Invigorating Breath
To sing, and he sang.

A song of joy
He carried on his way
As He jumped on a cloud
With silver spray.

A lining of hope
As sun stroked rain,
Hope losing faith,
I'll ever kiss you again.

You went to the window
As if summoned by love,
As warm fragrant Breath
Floated down from above.

His last final act
Sent shivers to your spine.
His tender last kiss
Entombed in your shrine.

You'll ever be mine,
You'll never be mine!

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