суббота, 18 октября 2008 г.

european air express




The Archipelago of Kisses

We live in a modern society. Husbands and wives donapos;t
grow
on trees, like in the old days. So where
does one find love? When youapos;re sixteen itapos;s easy,
like being
unleashed with a credit card
in a department store of kisses. Thereapos;s the first
kiss.
The sloppy kiss. The peck.
The sympathy kiss. The backseat smooch. The we
shouldnapos;t
be doing this kiss. The but your lips
taste so good kiss. The bury me in an avalanche of
tingles kiss.
The I wish youapos;d quit smoking kiss.
The I accept your apology, but you make me really mad
sometimes kiss. The I know
your tongue like the back of my hand kiss. As you get
older,
kisses become scarce. Youapos;ll be driving
home and see a damaged kiss on the side of the road,
with its purple thumb out. If you
were younger, youapos;d pull over, slide open the mouthapos;s
red door
just to see how it fits. Oh where
does one find love? If you rub two glances, you get a
smile.
Rub two smiles, you get a warm feeling.
Rub two warm feelings and presto-you have a kiss. Now
what? Donapos;t invite the kiss over
and answer the door in your underwear. Itapos;ll get
suspicious
and stare at your toes. Donapos;t
water the kiss with whisky. Itapos;ll turn bright pink and
explode
into a thousand luscious splinters,
but in the morning itapos;ll be ashamed and sneak out of
your body
without saying good-bye,
and youapos;ll remember that kiss forever by all the
little cuts it left
on the inside of your mouth. You must
nurture the kiss. Turn out the lights. Notice how it
illuminates
the room. Hold it to your chest
and wonder if the sand inside hourglasses comes from a
special
beach. Place it on the tongueapos;s pillow,
then look up the first recorded kiss in an
encyclopedia: beneath
a Babylonian olive tree in 1200 B.C.
But one kiss levitates above all the others. The
intersection
of function and desire. The I do kiss.
The Iapos;ll love you through a brick wall kiss. Even when
Iapos;m dead, Iapos;ll swim through the Earth,
like a mermaid of the soil, just to be next to your
bones.


by Jeffrey McDaniel

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