It’s difficult
but not impossible
to kiss when you are both
wearing baseball caps,
you with your wet braids along your neck,
your bodies warm in the cool wet grass,
the hem of your pants soaked to your knees
where you stand between parked cars
beyond the rows and rows of grapevines
in the inked-in night, dome lights dimmed
after the car doors close without you inside,
the rain clouds scudding away high above you and
the band unplugging their instruments behind you
and heading to the merch table –
no, it’s not impossible to kiss this way,
this night, just a little turning is what you need
and you find to your surprise
you haven’t forgotten how to stand,
his hand on the small of your back
like a rudder, waiting
while you think about which way
you want to go.
Halfway North 