בקטגוריות: Uncategorized

25 Apr 2008

(This entry was originally locked for LJ-friends only, but I decided that it’s unnecessary. The worst that can happen is that my mom reads this [Hi, mom!] and I can live with that)

There are three things I remember about my first kiss.

I remember the pain in my neck, sharp and insistent. I was sitting on the sofa. She was lying, head on my lap. I leaned down to kiss her. She didn’t make an effort to rise up. I bore it with good grace; after all, one mustn’t be childish at a time like this. I remember my neck squealing, hurting, wondering what it did to deserve this.

I remember the oystery feeling in my mouth, wet and blubbery. I remember feeling cheated. Is this what I waited for, these twenty-one years? Where are my fireworks? Where is my goddamn sense of achievement? Nothing but a sprained neck and a moist feeling of disillusionment . Not like my third kiss, No. That one came by surprise, didn’t leave me time to know what’s going on, long after she was out of the picture.

And mostly, I remember the music. I remember the movie we watched, early in the evening, a crappy Heathers rip-off, but mostly I remember the music. She liked punk, and I remember putting Iggy Pop in the car stereo when I picked her up. But we didn’t listen to punk that night. It was Suede’s Drowners. So we kissed in her room to popular tunes, and I left unsatisfied, unresolved, wondering if I had done something wrong. 

Three weeks later it was over, and it was Keith Jarret who carried me through.

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