Dr. Pepper Kisses

Dr. Pepper Kisses

The night we took a long walk through
the pasture towards the abandoned golfcourse,
you were home on leave, I was newly engaged.
As we navigated around the mine-shaped droppings
the cows had left behind, you took my hand.
The warmth,
the tough of your hand
made me wonder about
what might've been.

On the ninth hole, you held me close.
I had slipped on the dew-covered green
and was cold. Faces close,
we looked at the multitudes of stars,
picking out Orion,
the Big Dipper,
the North Star,
things you
would be able to see from the USS Frank Cable
on the other side of the world--in Guam.

Back in your darkened living room,
the house silent with sleeping,
the blue-green glow from the VCR
was the only illumination.
Drinking from a bottle of Dr. Pepper passed
back and forth between us, we made sure
caffeine and sugar
coursed through our bodies.
We began to wrestle,
limbs entwined
in tight embrace,
faces closer and closer until
we stopped

and you asked,
"Aren't you going to kiss me?"
Your lips.
The pressure, the bruises.
Your heartbeat
against my chest,
your breath
against my face.
The breathlessness
of your sighs,
the intoxicating sweetness
of your lips.
I didn't stop. I didn't want to ever stop.