Writer’s note: I have not written poetry in over two decades. I used to be deeply into it during the “Love Jones” days. I interviewed countless poets and covered spoken word events*, including some “Def Poets” artists. And I put my college degree on the line for Langston Hughes and the Harlem Renaissance. Still, I didn’t have much interest in even reading my old writing clips until my mother insisted on bringing over an old binder filled with essays and poetry I’d submitted for my Senior Portfolio at Lincoln University (Missouri) in 2003. As I flipped through the pages of writing from 1999 to 2003, some of those old poems I’d written came rushing back to me. “Houseguests” was on the darker side but still accurate. It definitely wasn’t as fun as remembering the crowd-pleasing poem “My Messenger.” I always thought this one (below) was cute because it reminded me of my first childhood kiss. We were playing outside in mudpies though, so I’m not sure where I got a box from.
“Two Kisses In a Box”
The little boy climbed in the box
And the girl followed too
They smiled and sat down
What were they gonna do?
He told her to come near
She leaned toward his mouth
When he finished talking
She blushed and looked south
And then she looked up
Kissed him on the cheek
He turned his head grinning
And then he took a peek
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He kissed her on her lips
And then their eyes locked
Two curious little kids
Kissed twice in a box
* The full article is here: page 1, page 2, page 3.
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