The sober touch
On the 16th of the scorching month of the year

Remembered as the day cupid shot me with an arrow.


The foolish enchantment I have must have been under that day.
To agree, to go with him.


A simple spur of spontaneous action
Meeting up with each other in the city we both adore.


My mind as clueless as a parent being lied to sneakily,
My heart as a savaging seeker of wild and uncontrollable love.


The arriving minute I sunk into the seat of his pickup truck
Innocence struck,
Not knowing whether to sing along with the blaring songs or not.


The comfortable atmosphere that came fashionably late,
I grabbed his palm interlocking it with mine,
The array of distractions were incomparable,
To the painted on gold halo hovering around his hiding horns.



With our legs pounding against the pavement, mind full in clouds, heart cascading open.
We sat.


Sharing whether we liked more peanut butter on our sandwich than jelly,
The background of our beings shared through photos and stories.


Somehow, in a great lustrous moment,
A moment of impact,
Came,
Smack,
The rosy lines of our faces meet.


The sober touch.


I could see all my memories of past kisses fading away.
Not even waving goodbye.


The peck,
The impact it had,
Setting off a compassionate alarm for affection





From then on,
The night was a kind of night,
People write songs about,
Lonely dream about,
Past dwell about,
From then on, on the day cupid got a lucky shot,
He was my muse.