The Last Kiss

She thought of her and Tom’s last kiss.

A real kiss,

the kind that burns cigarettes.

They had made love on a frozen night,

when she got home,

sweaty from a dance class.

She took a shower

and Tom quietly came in,

wrapped his big arms around her drizzled body

and kissed her shoulders

while he moved his hands down her pelvis,

saying nothing,

only the sound of shower rain

and wet kisses.

Then she turned around,

her eyes steady on his beating-heart ones.

She spit out the water from her mouth,

clung to his lips

as if to a ripe raspberry still on the bush.

She wanted that kiss,

those kisses,

again.