Thirteen ways to look at a first kiss

I
Sweaty under street lamps,
an innocent cheek
caught and chased to red.

II
Concrete cold
cuddled behind H Block
strong perfume, pungent
under coats.

III
Rough wood on back-alley
gates, summers gone dark
outside the kitchen lights.
Teeth meet, cold hands
warm under jumpers.

IV
Drunken clink of milk bottles
kicked on a scrubbed clean step,
leaning in to press wild flowers.

V
Running home late,
taller than the houses
clearing the garden gate
with one leap and no sleep.

VI
As quiet as cussioned quilt
through grounded windows,
we slip together, muffled
by television laughter
coming from the next room.

VII
Two thin straws
in a glass coke bottle,
sharing crisps
on worn down step.

VIII
Damp in the long grass
sipping dew drops
from each others skin.

IX
Rain soaked in a limestone cave
summer shorts and tee shirts
hair dripping like the walls,
lips shiver into warmth.

X
Cigarette smoke chokes
on tobacco bits and coughs
face first with a little spit.

XI
Over grown weeds
behind the Navy cadets hall,
opening clams for pearls,
swallowing your sound.

XII
A festival tent with black hair
and mud boots, loose jumpers
daubed with field straw
and hot morning headaches.

XIII
The matted scent of newly born
soft and translucent,
careful not to crush,
I close my eyes over your gaze.