Yours Truly 2016 / Cascadia College / Bothell, WA | Page 91

First Kiss
Courtney Putnam
It was slimy, cold,
like a slab of moist pressed meat
smashing my lips.
His mouth opened to a chapped-lip pucker,
his tongue collecting a pool of spit
at the tip, and when he handled my hips,
hands trembling, rattling
my silver-charmed belt, he closed his eyes
as if to transport us somewhere—
anywhere but the back of the
junior high gym next to the green
garbage dumpster.
“That was, like, amazing,” he said,
his blue eyes searching
my green ones for wide, wild pupils,
but instead I lowered my lids
and let him kiss me again and again,
thinking, this must get better with practice,
until the fifth period bell rang
and we parted—he to math class
where he doodled our names in red ink,
and me to the gym where I washed
my face and changed into shoes for running.

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