The first kiss was a threat
in one of those games that children play.
The child was eighteen, which is later, perhaps,
than expected.
The game was Truth or Dare.
The situation was embarrassing.

How did I get so far in life
while experiencing so little?
But I had not gotten far.
I was at college,
but still sheltered.
I lived alone.
I worked at jobs I had not yet earned.

Even the situation was not one of my doing.
She was dared to kiss me
and she bravely took the horrifying dare
tongue waggling dangerously
moving through my mouth in ways I knew nothing about.
I was a new fish who understood little
about her extremity swimming in my waters.

I blushed and played the experience off,
but probably fooled nobody.
I had been seen with no one on campus all year,
bemoaned being lonely.
I think my innocence was well-identified.

It was maintained for many months afterwards,
and I didn’t kiss anyone else until the next school year,
when I began to learn other skills
that would prove additionally useful.