Her kiss in that glass Feb. 18, 2015

I should have left her kiss in the glass, not stolen it from the glass in the bar, her lips leaving their mark on the rim where she sipped her wine.

I should not have stared at it for so long, drowning myself in the wine glass.

I barely heard what she said, recalled later, after the temptation was beyond reach.

I should not have let my mind weave fantasies of what might have been possible, drunk on those things we would later do in fact.

I should have left her kiss in the glass at the bar, bottled up like a Gennie, keeping its wishes from exploding inside of me, my fingers lingering on the stem where her fingers had lingered, stroking it, feeling the warmth that still remained.

I should have left her kiss in that glass. But alas, I stole it.

email to Al Sullivan