Pucker up

I like kissing. 


Light, chaste kisses, wet, sloppy ones, French kisses, soul kisses, hungry kisses (I don’t like *ss kissing).

Today, I kissed the pavement. 

I didn’t like it. 


After a particularly vigorous swim (I was late & time was short) I was a little wobbly and upon exiting the gym I took a header from the parking lot. 

I tripped over the curb and into the grassy median separating the parking spaces. 

I shouldn’t have been dragging my feet since I was already dragging my knuckles.

It was one of those falls where you don’t even get your hands out in time & you wind up with your face buried in the turf, your mouth open and your arms still at your sides. 

As I spat the grass & dirt from my pie hole, I glanced around to see if anyone saw my wonderful humiliation. 

All of the Aqua-ettes were standing at the poolside window. 

I could hear the laughter through the glass from thirty yards away. 

As I rolled over to collect any stray pieces of my dignity, I tried to wipe away the grass stains and chunks of earth clinging to me but after the rain I only succeeded in smearing them together to create some sort of homemade camouflage paste. 


So, grass sticking in my hair and covered in earth toned war paint, I made my way back to the truck. 

The laughter didn’t fade until I shut the door and started the engine. 

I think I’m missing a tooth…

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