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Writer & Historian

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First Kiss Wet

January 30, 2011

A poem of youth

Innocent. You were so innocent.

Following a shadow, slipping into the

Dark forest

Near the old school,

Lured by curiosity.

Heart pounding in

Expectation and wonderment.

You heard a twig break under your feet.

Then another cracked a heartbeat away

In the darkest part of the forest.

Suddenly, he was upon you.

A young centaur standing

Twelve-years-old tall in the night.

Beside you now beckoning,

Taunting you to come closer.

You, a fawn mesmerized by possibility,

Confronted him and waited.

He, fearful but bold,

Asked: “Wet or dry?”

You opted for wet.

When it came, covered in saliva,

It slithered across your face.

Yecch! Gooey and gawd awful

And yet…

Perhaps the dry next time.

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