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By your bus that day, as you humor were leaving, I was afraid that what transpired between us would slip away forever as soon as you stepped on board, that you might come back tomorrow perennially wiped clean of my influence, humor and so I tried to capture it, you, love. Who knows why people kiss? What does it mean to touch your lips to someone else's? A custom? A handshake? No weapons here? For me, it was gravity, a giant black hole spinning in my chest, pulling humor you in. And best of all, you kissed back, soft and willing and ignoring the rude squelches from the bully kids on your bus. And we looked at each other for what must have been 10 seconds, saying nothing, just trying to figure out what just happened, and I noticed how there were these light flecks of green in your brown eyes, but I could barely see them because everything was slightly out of focus from standing so close. And you said, "You're spontaneous." You said it as if you meant I was rich. (Confession: I was never very bright, and I had to go look up that word; I liked what it meant.)
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