Location,
Location, Location
I
could have kissed you
under
cherry blossoms,
pale
petals drifting down
like
the trees wanted to
pretend
they could be
snowclouds.
I
could have kissed you
in
the rain, drenched to
our
bones and not even
caring
that the skies
opened
up above us
and
tried to wash us out.
I
could have kissed you
in a
clearing in the most
secluded
woods, with
just
the sound of wind
rustling
through the leaves
and
a few voyeuristic
finches
peeping at us.
Instead,
I kissed you
in
the parking lot of a
Waffle
House, just shy
of 2
a.m. in the middle
of a
hectic week, with
our
waitress grinning
at
us from the other
side
of the window,
because,
honestly,
how
could I not?
