My First Real Kiss

I’d kissed at least one boy by age fourteen. Disappointment was the taste it left. Although it was short, it was far from sweet. In contrast, my second kiss was lengthy. Its honey lingered in my mouth all night. Oh, Alabama summer of my 14th year! The month was either August or July. Visiting my best friend Sheila’s state, I met her 19-year-old cousin Glenn (a preacher’s son was he!) Wearing a skort (I still remember it- (a half skirt, half shorts outfit with patterns red and blue). I got into the back seat of a car with Sheila’s cousin. She sat in the front with the driver, her boyfriend Jack. Glenn liked to tease and make me laugh. I was a cherry red/raspberry blue popsicle melting in the sweltering humidity, but melting too with the thrill of sitting next to handsome, winsome Glenn. Jack drove us all around and up and down so many rolling hills. My stomach too was rolling with excitement (Glenn’s arm had found its way around my shoulders). Before sunset arrived we stopped to park. I don’t remember where. I didn’t care. Feelings I had never felt before were now exploding! I only can recall those soft, smooth, sweet, long kisses into the night and a song on the car radio, its lyrics crooning “Marry me Bill . . . I love you so, I always will. . .” YES YES YES my young heart swooned! So innocent was I in my tight blue top with the well-matched blue/red skort, reveling in my youth's greatest joy in that back seat as my friend Sheila was in her own world making out with Jack. Glenn must have been at least on his hundredth or perhaps five-hundreth time around the block, and there was I with him - naive and dreamy-eyed on that perfectly romantic summer evening. July 21, 2021 For A Lovely Memory Poetry Contest Sponsor: Regina McIntosh