How I Learned to Kiss, by Myra Shapiro
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A movie actress taught me. She crept inside
a bed to warm a man who had a chill;
he was an outlaw but she had to
save his life, her body had to do that.
Her hair, her breasts, her vivid
darkened mouth opening towards him
made me ache for Saturday when I would
wet my lips, move forward
in the back seat toward the stranger
pressing close, breathing hard, insistent on
the power of a star.
From “I’ll See You Thursday” by Myra Shapiro (Blue Sofa Press: 66 pp., $10) Copyright 1997 Reprinted by permission.
